ANNA  BALMER 


r 


THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 


The  Madonna  of 
the  Curb 


By 

ANNA  BALMER  MYERS 
Author  of  "Patchwork"  and  "Amanda 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 

HELEN  MASON  GROSE 


PHILADELPHIA 
GEORGE  W.  JACOBS  &  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1922,  by 
GEORGE  W.  JACOBS  &  COMPANY 


All  rights  reserved 
Printed  in  U.  S.  A. 


To 

ANNA  VERONICA  FARRINGTON* 

in  memory  of  the  days  when  we  worked 

together  on  Sunset  Motintain 

this  book  is  dedicated 


2137479 


THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

On  the  curb  of  a  city  pavement, 

By  the  ash  and  garbage  cans, 
In  the  stench  and  rolling  thunder; 

Of  motor  trucks  and  vans, 
There  sits  my  little  lady, 

With  brave  but  troubled  eyes, 
And  in  her  arms  a  baby 

That  cries  and  cries  and  cries. 

She  cannot  be  more  than  seven ; 

But  years  go  fast  in  the  slums, 
And  hard  on  the  pains  of  winter 

The  pitiless  summer  comes. 
The  wail  of  sickly  children 

She  knows ;  she  understands 
The  pangs  of  puny  bodies, 

The  clutch  of  small  hot  hands. 

In  the  deadly  blaze  of  August, 

That  turns  men  faint  and  mad, 
She  quiets  the  peevish  urchins 

By  telling  a  dream  she  had — 
A  heaven  with  marble  counters, 

And  ice,  and  a  singing  fan ; 
And  a  God  in  white,  so  friendly, 

Just  like  the  drug-store  man. 

Her  ragged  dress  is  deafer 

Than  the  perfect  robe  of  a  queen ! 
Poor  little  lass,  who  knows  not 

The  blessing  of  being  clean. 
And  when  you  are  giving  millions 

To  Belgian,  Pole  and  Serb, 
Remember  my  pitiful  lady — 

Madonna  of  the  Curb ! 

— CHRISTOPHER  MORLEY. 

(The  Author  acknowledges  zvith  thanks  permission  from  Mr. 
Morley  and  George  Dor  an  &  Co.  to  print  this  poem.) 


Contents 

L    RED  ROSE  COURT 1 1 

II.  THE  COUNTERFEITER        .        .        .        .25 

III.  SUNSET  MOUNTAIN 39 

IV.  SARAH'S  LESSON       ....  56 
V.  LETTERS  .......       80 

VI.  AFTER  Six  YEARS — MORE  LETTERS        .       95 

VII.  REVELATIONS  OF  SARAH'S  FATHER    .        .114 

VIII.  LANCASTER  COUNTY         .        .        .         .132 

IX.  FAIRVIEW'S  RECEPTION    .        .        .        .152 

X.  IN  THE  CHERRY  TREE      .        .        .        .165 

XI.    WORK  AND  PLAY 180 

XII.     LETTERS .     202 

XIII.  THE  PRODIGAL 215 

XIV.  MOUNT  GRETNA 231 

XV.  THE  LOST  COTTAGE          ....     248 

XVI.     A   DISCOVERY 263 

XVII.  COALS  OF  FIRE 274 

XVIII.  THE  HEART  OF  A  RECTOR        .        .        .283 
XIX.    SUSPICION 288 

XX.  THE  CARDINAL  FLOWER           .        .        .     295 

XXL  THE  CLOUDS  ROLLED  AWAY    .        .        .     305 

XXII.  CHRISTMAS  EVE 315 

XXIII.  CHRISTMAS  MORNING        .        .        .        .318 

XXIV.  THE  GUEST 326 

XXV.  THE  CIRCLE  COMPLETE    .        .        .       '.331 


Illustrations 

The  Madonna  of  the  Curb  ....  Frontispiece 
"  I  won't  press  mine,"  she  said  gaily  .  Facing  page  256 
"  Who  wrote  this  ?"  ...."«  306 


The  Madonna  of  the  Curb 


CHAPTER  I 

RED  ROSE  COURT 

PERHAPS  when  the  great  manufacturing  city  of  New 
Jersey  in  which  Red  Rose  Court  was  located  was  in  its 
infancy,  before  the  tide  of  business  and  the  spreading 
factories  had  swallowed  gardens  and  lawns;  perchance 
then,  many  years  ago,  there  stood  two  or  three  cottages, 
where  in  the  early  summer  red  roses  climbed  about  the 
porches  or  twined  their  rambling  branches  along  old 
fences,  and  gave  to  the  street  its  perfume-suggesting 
name.  But  upon  the  summer  day  of  this  story,  Red  Rose 
Court  was  as  dirty,  crowded  and  ill-smelling  a  habitation 
of  human  creatures  as  exists  under  God's  blue  sky. 

Upon  each  side  of  the  narrow  street  was  a  row  of 
dingy  houses,  beyond  and  against  which  tall  factories 
and  tenements  were  built  so  closely  that  they  formed  a 
rectangle  about  the  place,  leaving  only  one  exit  from  the 
Court. 

This  miserable  exit,  formed  by  a  six-foot  archway  be- 
tween two  buildings,  opened  to  a  busy  thoroughfare 
where  cars  and  trucks  sped  on  their  noisy  way.  In  and 
out  through  this  alleyway  passed  those  who  lived  in  the 
dozen  houses  of  Red  Rose  Court. 

The  structures  were  tumble-down,  unsightly,  unsani- 
tary hovels.  Shutters  hung  upon  one  hinge,  broken 
panes  of  window  glass  were  replaced  by  dirty  rags.  The 


12          THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB  "* 

1. 

cobble-paved  street  was  littered  with  a  collection  of 
boxes,  broken  furniture,  ash  cans  and  garbage  pails,  the 
latter  spilling  their  malodorous  contents,  while  from  the 
narrow  gutter  along  one  side  a  stream  of  nauseous  gray 
water  spread,  overflowing,  and  added  its  horror  of  damp 
putridness  to  the  foul  stench  that  vitiated  the  air  in  all 
directions. 

On  the  side  of  the  street  where  the  shadows  afforded 
a  slight  relief  from  the  intense  heat  a  number  of  chil- 
dren played.  Like  the  houses  they  were  filthy  and  ill- 
kept.  The  oldest,  a  girl  of  eleven,  sat  on  the  curb  and  held 
in  her  arms  a  baby,  puny,  whining  and  unmistakably  ill. 
The  girl's  face  bent  anxiously  over  the  fretting  child, 
which  she  cradled  more  comfortably  in  her  arm. 

"  Poor  kid,"  the  little  mother  murmured  as  she  rocked 
back  and  forth  on  the  curb  and  crooned  tenderly,  "  Poor 
kid!  It's  darned  tough  on  youse  young  ones  in  Red 
Rose  Court.  Now  if  it  was  nice  as  the  name  sounds 
you'd  be  next  thing  to  heaven,  but  Red  Rose  Court  is  the 
very  hell  of  a  hot  hole  on  a  day  like  this,  ain't  it,  though ! 
Poor  kid,  now  you  shut  up  your  cryin'  and  Sade'll  fix  a 
fan  to  make  you  cool.  Here,  you  Jakey,  gimme  that 
there  rag,"  she  shouted  to  one  of  the  small  boys  who 
was  rigging  a  sailboat  from  an  old  shoe  and  a  dirty  rag. 

"  Ach,  Sade,  I  wants " 

"D'you  always  get  what  you  wants,  eh?  You  heard 
what  I  said — gimme  that  rag." 

She  accompanied  the  words  with  a  wild  shake  of  her 
head,  a  shake  apparently  suggestive  of  efficient  punish- 
ment waiting  for  him  if  he  dared  disobey.  The  boy,  vis- 
ibly intimidated,  came  nearer  and  held  out  the  coveted 
rag. 

"  Pig  of  a  Dutchman ! "  she  said  as  she  snatched  the 


RED  ROSE  COURT  13 

object  from  fiis  hands  and  turned  to  wave  it  before  the 
face  of  the  gasping  babe.  Then  she  dipped  the  cloth  into 
the  dirty  water  of  the  gutter  and  wiped  the  hot  cheeks 
and  forehead  of  the  baby. 

"There,  ain't  that  the  ticket?"  she  said  tenderly. 
"  Bet  your  life  Sade  can  make  you  cool." 

A  feeble  laugh  from  the  sick  child  brought  a  loud  one 
from  the  little  protectress  as  she  lifted  the  baby  -to  a  new 
position  on  her  lap.  She  began  to  speak  to  it  as  though 
it  were  old  enough  to  grasp  the  meaning  of  her  words. 
"You  little  angel,  if  you  was  mine  I'd  take  you  to  the 
country,  I'd  take  all  youse  little  kids  o'  Red  Rose  Court, 
but  'specially  you — out  to  the  country  where  the  green 
grass  is  growin'  and  wonderin'  why  there  ain't  no  babies 
to  roll  on  it,  and  where  the  birds  sing  you  to  sleep,  and 
you  could  splash  in  a  little  brook  like  we  read  about  in 
school,  with  ferns  and  pebbles  and  forget-me-nots  on  the 
banks,  and  where  you  could  paddle  your  feet  in  water 
that  looks  like  silver.  Then  I'd  put  you  in  a  bed  all  white 
and  cool,  like  them  I  see  in  the  store  windows,  or  like 
them  they  had  in  the  horspital  I  was  to  with  your  ma  that 
time  your  pa  got  hurt  in  the  accident.  And  I'd  have  ice 
in  the  room  to  keep  it  cool,  and  butterflies  wavin'  round 
and  f annin'  you,  and  I'd  have  cold  milk  and  ice-cream  for 
you — go  on  with  youse,  I  was  talkin'  to  the  baby,"  she 
exclaimed  to  the  other  children  who  had  drawn  around 
her  as  her  fancy  painted  the  heaven  she'd  make  for  the 
baby  if  she  could. 

"Ah,  Sade,  have  a  heart,"  spoke  up  a  girl  scarcely 
seven,  yet  old  beyond  her  years  in  the  language  of  the 
slums.  "  We're  a  darned  sight  hotter'n  that  kid !  Give 
her  back  to  old  lady  Maloney,  and  take  us  to  the  park 
for  a  walk." 


•I*          THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

"Yeh,  do,  Sade,"  shouted  the  others  and  swarmed 
around  the  girl  on  the  curb.  Sade  looked  down  into  the 
hot  face  of  the  baby.  "  Ain't  youse  got  no  f eelin's  ? 
Don't  you  know  her  ma  is  workin'  this  week?  I  prom- 
ised Mrs.  Maloney  I'd  keep  the  kid.  Shut  up,"  she  said 
as  the  baby  gave  a  pitiable  little  wail,  "  did  you  think 
Sade'd  go  off  and  leave  you  in  this  hot  hole  ? "  Her 
words  were  rough  but  her  voice  was  as  tender  as  mother- 
hood itself.  "  Poor  kid,  it's  a  tough  deal  they're  handin' 
you.  But  it'll  be  cool  again  some  day,  and  while  it's  hot, 
believe  me,  Sade's  goin'  to  make  you  comfortable.  Leave 
it  to  Sade !  Come  on,  everybody  that  wants  to  go  to  the 
park,  we'll  get  the  coach  and  take  the  baby." 

A  shout  greeted  her  words ;  the  play  in  the  dirty  water 
was  willingly  left  at  the  prospect  of  a  visit  to  the  park. 

One  of  the  boys  ran  for  the  coach  and  the  girl  stood 
up.  She  looked  like  a  miserable,  forlorn,  but  devoted 
Madonna,  in  that  dirty,  notorious  alley,  ironically  called 
Red  Rose  Court. 

Her  full  name  was  Sarah  Burkhart,  but  the  only  place 
she  ever  heard  that  version  of  it  was  at  school.  To  her 
father,  stepmother  and  the  people  of  Red  Rose  Court  she 
was  Sade. 

Her  eleven  years  had  brought  her  much  premature 
knowledge  of  the  world  and  its  wickedness.  Sordidness 
and  squalor,  with  all  their  loathsome  progeny,  formed  her 
environment,  and  yet,  was  there  not  a  possibility  that  the 
same  Nature  that  roots  a  lily  in  the  mud  and  fashions  a 
pearl  in  a  slimy  bivalve  might  accomplish  a  like  transfor- 
mation for  that  child  of  the  slums?  Such  a  suggestion 
would  have  been  met  by  Sade  with  a  sneering  laugh,  and 
a  disdainful  answer,  "  Me  grow  like  a  lily  ?  Hot  air ! 
Nothin'  doin' !  "  For  she  had  long  since  learned  to  face 


RED  ROSE  COURT  15 

the  truth  without  squirming  and  knew  she  was  homely. 
The  cracked  mirror  in  her  home  had  shown  her  how 
appropriate  was  the  appellation  her  stepmother  fre- 
quently hurled  at  her,  "  You  ugly  brat." 

She  was  far  from  beautiful ;  her  cheeks  were  too  thin, 
her  mouth  too  large,  her  black  hair  habitually  unkempt. 
The  only  thing  that  redeemed  her  face  from  positive 
ugliness  was  a  pair  of  big  gray  eyes.  They  were  lovely 
and  expressive  when  wide  open,  but  she  had  a  way  of 
half  veiling  them  with  her  lashes,  as  though  she  were 
peering  into  the  very  soul  of  things  and  people.  It  gave 
her  a  shrewd,  unlovely  expression  but  added  emphasis  to 
her  dictates  at  such  times  when  she  chose  to  rule  the  other 
children  of  the  Court. 

After  the  rickety  coach  was  bumped  over  the  cobble- 
stones and  into  the  street  outside  the  archway  Sarah  laid 
the  baby  on  its  worn  cushions.  "  There  now,  off  we  go. 
You're  the  only  one's  got  an  autermobile.  You  should 
worry  how  far  it  is  to  the  park!  Sh,"  she  shook  her 
tousled  head  as  the  child  began  to  cry,  "  don't  you  cry 
when  you're  off  to  heaven.  All  aboard !  "  She  wheeled 
the  carriage  a  few  feet  then  stood  still  and  faced  one  of 
the  little  boys.  "  You,  Jakey  Schlotzberger,  I  got  a  big 
notion  to  leave  you  home  this  time.  Yesterday  when  I 
took  you  past  the  candy  factory  you  bawled  'cause  you 
couldn't  have  none." 

"Ach,  I  won't  cry  this  time,"  half  wailed  Jakey.  "  I 
won't  bawl  at  all,  no  matter  what  it  happens,  Sade,  if  you 
just  takes  me  with." 

"  Well,"  she  relented,  "  I'll  try  you  once  more,  but  if 
you  cry  this  time  you'll  never  go  again  till  roses  bloom 
in  Red  Rose  Court.  Come  on,  kids.  But  mind,  it's  hot, 
it's  awful  hot  to  walk." 


16          THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB, 

"  We  don't  care,"  they  assured  her ;  and  the  little  party 
started  off.  In  some  sections  of  the  city  their  departure 
would  have  attracted  attention,  but  in  that  thickly  popu- 
lated neighborhood  no  one  took  notice  of  the  pleasure 
seekers. 

"  Which  park  we  goin'  at  ?  "  asked  one. 

"  Might  as  well  go  to  North  Broqk;  that's  the  test." 

"  Hooray,  you're  bully,  Sade ! "  the  chorus  of  happy 
voices  and  squeals  of  delight  greeted  her  announcement. 

"  Aw,  cut  the  noise  and  come  on,"  she  ordered. 

Through  the  noisy  business  section  the  girl  led  her 
party  until  they  entered  at  length  upon  a  long  street  lined 
with  great  brownstone  houses. 

"  Gee,  it's  quiet  here,"  exclaimed  Jakey.  "  Who  lives 
in  them  big  houses  ?  " 

"  Rich  guys." 

"  Where  does  they  get  all  their  money?  " 

"  Make  it.     But  shut  up,  you  talk  too  much." 

"  Make  it  ?  "  repeated  the  irrepressible  Jakey.  "  How 
does  they  make  it?  Does  they  have  a  machine?  I'm 
goin'  to  make  some  too  when  I  get  big ;  I'm  goin'  to  have 
a  machine  and  make  lots  and  — • — " 

A  frightened  look  came  into  the  girl's  eyes  and  her  face 
paled.  She  turned  quickly  to  the  boy. 

"  Do  you  know  any  one  makes  money  with  a  ma- 
chine ? "  she  asked. 

"  Me  ?    Ach,  no.     But  when  I  get  big  - 

The  color  returned  to  Sarah's  face.  "  Jakey,"  she  said 
fiercely,  "  don't  you  know  that  makin*  money  with  ma- 
chines is  bad?  If  you  get  pinched  at  it  it's  jail  for  long." 

Jakey  shivered.  "Ach,  Sade,  don't  scare  me  like  that. 
I  won't  never  make  no  money  that  ways  if  you  gets  sent 
up  for  it.  How  much  farder  is  it  to  that  park?"  he 


RED  ROSE  COURT  17 

asked,  eager  to  change  the  conversation  to  a  less  terrify- 
ing subject. 

"  Steen  more  miles,"  she  told  him.     "  Tired?  " 

"  A  little,"  he  admitted. 

"Aw,  we  ain't!  That  little  Dutchman  always  gets 
tired  first." 

They  trudged  on  silently  for  a  while.  Then  suddenly 
one  child  cried,  "I  see  it!  There's  the  park! " 

At  the  end  of  the  long  street  the  park  lay  cool  and 
green,  and  the  children  jumped  in  delight  as  they  drew 
near  to  it.  Jakey  ran  ahead  and  seated  himself  under  a 
tree. 

"  Come  on,  it's  fine  here ! "  he  cried,  turning  a  somer- 
sault on  the  grass. 

"  Go  on,"  Sarah  scoffed.  "  Youse  don't  want  to  sit 
near  the  street  like  that!  When  you  go  to  a  park  go 
right.  Come  on  in."  She  led  the  way  to  a  cooler  spot 
under  an  oak-tree. 

"  There  now,  kids,"  she  said  as  she  set  the  baby  on  the 
grass,  "  ain't  you  swell,  though !  " 

"  Say,"  asked  one  of  the  children,  "  wouldn't  it  be 
grand  if  we  had  grass  like  this  in  Red  Rose  Court? 
Think  mebbe  some'd  grow  if  we  planted  it  ?  " 

"  Humph,"  was  Sarah's  response,  "  how  could  anything 
grow  in  that  place?  The  person  named  it  after  roses 
must  'a'  had  bats  in  his  belfry.  But,  say,  now  ain't  you 
havin'  a  swell  time  ?  "  she  said,  smiling  as  she  watched 
the  children  romp  and  skip,  then  roll  on  the  grass.  But 
the  baby  held  her  deepest  interest.  She  found  green 
leaves  and  put  them  into  its  puny  hands,  she  invited  it  to 
kick  or  creep  on  the  cool  ground,  but  it  lay  inertly  in  the 
shade  and  looked  up  at  her,  a  smile  on  its  wizened  face  as 
though  it  were  longing  to  convey  to  her  some  idea  of  its 


18          THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

gratitude  for  the  relief  from  the  cruel  heat  of  Red  Rose 
Court. 

"  Say,  this  beats  heaven  all  hollow,"  Sarah  told  the 
baby,  "  for  pearly  gates  and  golden  streets  like  I  heard 
once  are  there  ain't  half  as  fine  as  grass  and  wind. 
Mebbe  there's  a  part  o'  heaven  that's  got  a  park,  then  it'd 
be  all  right." 

The  section  of  the  park  in  which  the  children  played 
was  almost  deserted  at  that  hour.  Occasionally  faint 
echoes  of  laughter  and  calls  of  other  children  floated  to 
the  secluded  shade  of  the  oak  tree,  but  the  children  of 
Red  Rose  Court  paid  no  attention  to  the  sounds.  Their 
hungry  little  souls  were  given  wholly  to  their  play.  But 
suddenly  Sarah  held  up  a  warning  finger  and  ordered  a 
crisp,  "  Shut  up !  "  She  held  her  head  rigid  in  an  atti- 
tude of  keen  listening ;  her  eyes  burned  under  her  narrow- 
ing lids.  Then  she  rose.  She  had  heard  the  cry  of  an 
animal  in  pain  and  the  derisive  yell  of  a  boy. 

"  Say,"  she  told  the  children,  "  you  kids  stay  right  here, 
and  mind  nothin'  happens  to  the  baby.  Jakey  and  me's 
goin'  to  walk  up  there  a  little  ways.  Youse  stay  right 
here  till  we  get  back." 

"All  right,"  they  promised. 

Sarah,  going  in  the  direction  from  which  the  sounds 
had  come,  approached  a  slight  depression  securely  hedged 
by  trees  and  shrubbery.  As  she  and  Jakey  came  nearer 
the  whine  of  a  puppy  and  the  voice  of  a  boy  rose  more 
distinctly. 

"  Where  was  we  goin'  at  ?  "  asked  Jakey. 

"  To  hunt  trouble.  Mind  what  I  tell  you,  if  there's  a 
fight  you  keep  out  o*  it." 

"  Fight  ?  "  Jakey  cried  in  terror.  "Ach,  Sade,  police- 
mans  gets  you  if  you  fight ! " 


RED  ROSE  COURT  19 

"  Shut  up,  you  baby,  and  come  on ! " 

Sarah  tiptoed  noiselessly  to  the  little  clump  of  bushes 
and  pushed  the  profuse  vegetation  aside. 

"  Let  me  see  once,"  whispered  Jakey  in  awe-filled 
tones. 

"  Sh !  "  cautioned  Sarah,  "  you  stay  here  while  I  show 
that  kid  a  few  tricks." 

Within  the  shelter  of  the  dense  shrubbery  a  boy  stood 
at  the  edge  of  a  small  lily  pond.  He  held  in  one  hand  a 
wriggling  yellow  pup,  whose  long  shaggy  hair  was  drip- 
ping from  a  recent  immersion  in  the  water,  while  with  the 
other  hand  he  waved  a  stick,  and  the  frightened  animal, 
evidently  acquainted  with  the  sting  of  sticks,  cowered  and 
whined. 

"  You  little  coward,  afraid  of  water  and  a  stick,"  the 
boy  addressed  the  dog. 

"  You  big  coward !  "  cried  Sarah  as  she  took  one  big 
stride  and  stood  before  the  boy,  a  veritable  volcano  of 
wrath  and  indignation. 

"  Who  are  you  ? "  he  said,  laughing  at  her  ludicrous, 
forlorn  appearance. 

"  I'll  show  you !  "  she  retorted.  Like  a  flash  she  struck 
out  a  fist  and  hit  him  squarely  on  the  jaw.  The  unex- 
pectedness of  the  attack  sent  him  reeling,  but  he  quickly 
regained  his  balance.  He  faced  her  angrily.  "  You 
want  to  get  pinched,  you  little  shrew  ?  "  he  said.  "An- 
other punch  like  that  from  that  match-stick  of  an  arm 
and  I'll  get  the  cop." 

"  Huh,"  she  faced  him  defiantly,  "  guess  he'd  pinch 
you  first  for  hurtin'  the  dog.  Don't  you  give  me  none  o' 
your  hot  air.  You  dirty  thing,  to  hurt  a  puppy  that  can't 
bite  you  back!  Why  don't  you  take  a  cat  that  can 
scratch  ?  You  put  it  down  1 " 


20          THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURS 

"  I  will  not !  "  he  told  her  boldly.  "  Run  along  and  sell 
your  papers,  you  ugly  brat ;  this  is  my  party." 

The  last  words  choked  in  his  throat.  Sarah,  seeing 
that  the  culprit  was  obstinate,  decided  upon  strenuous 
measures.  She  remembered  a  trick  she  had  once  used  to 
rout  a  bully  of  Red  Rose  Court.  With  an  agile  spring 
she  leaped  upon  the  boy's  back ;  in  an  instant  her  bare  legs 
were  twisted  around  his  chest  and  her  thin  arms  doubled 
about  his  throat  so  tightly  that  he  found  it  difficult  to 
breathe.  He  tried  to  shake  her  off,  but  she  clung  with 
the  tenacity  of  a  crab. 

"  Get  off,"  he  muttered  thickly.  "  Can't  you  see 

I  can't  let  him  fall.  Get  off  and  I'll  give  him  to 
you." 

"  Cross  your  heart,"  she  demanded. 

"  Cross  my  heart,"  he  agreed,  almost  choked. 

Sarah  loosened  her  hold  and  slid  to  the  ground,  while 
he  breathed  deeply  and  rubbed  his  neck. 

"  Hand  me  that  there  dog.  You  ain't  fit  to  have  any- 
thing alive." 

He  did  as  she  bid  him  and  she  cuddled  the  frightened 
animal  in  her  arm.  "  Poor  little  brat,"  she  said  to  it, 

"  that  bad  boy "  She  turned  suddenly  to  the  youth 

and  ordered,  "  You  devil,  better  run  while  the  running's 
good.  If  I  ever  get  my  fist  on  your  hide  again  I'll  make 
shoestrings  out  o'  it!  Better  run  or  your  ma'll  have  a 
funeral  to  go  to  to-morrow !  Scat !  " 

The  boy  had  evidently  no  desire  for  further  chastise- 
ment from  her,  for  he  muttered  sullenly  and  turned  from 
her,  leaving  the  dog  in  her  arms.  Sarah  fondled  the 
panting  animal  as  he  snuggled  close  to  her,  his  wet  fur 
rubbing  against  her  dress. 

"  Lucky  me  and  Jakey  come  in  time  'fore  that  bad  boy 


RED  ROSE  COURT  21 

killed  you.  Jakey ! "  She  looked  around  but  the  boy 
had  gone.  "  Huh,"  she  curled  her  lips,  "  he  got  scared." 

As  she  drew  near  to  the  children  a  wild  yell  went  up  at 
sight  of  the  dog.  "  Oh,  Sade,  where'd  you  get  him  ?  Is 
he  yourn  ?  Dare  you  keep  him  ?  "  Jakey  peeped  round 
the  trunk  of  a  tree,  his  curiosity  too  strong  to  keep  him 
hidden. 

"  You're  a  fine  body-guard,"  she  told  him  sarcastically. 

"  Me,  I  ain't  nothin'  at  all  like  that,  Sade.  I  just  got 
scared  when  I  seen  there  was  goin'  to  be  a  fight  and  I 
run  back  here  to  help  mind  the  baby." 

"  Humph,  need  mindin'  yourself." 

Here  the  questions  came  again.  "Is  the  pup  yourn? 
Goin'  to  keep  him  ?  " 

"  He's  mine,  and  I'm  goin'  to  keep  him  or  lose  a  leg ! " 
was  Sarah's  assertion.  "  Come  on,  it's  time  we  got  to 
the  Court  and  them  red  roses."  She  made  a  grimace  to- 
ward the  sky  and  went  on,  "  Wonder  what  nut  named  the 
place  we  live  at.  Like  Mrs.  Maloney  says,  '  If  the  fool 
killer  ever  comes  along  that  man  better  hide  in  the  closet.' 
Come  on,  kids." 

So  the  little  party  with  its  new  acquisition  started 
homeward.  As  they  passed  through  the  archway  and 
entered  Red  Rose  Court  a  medley  of  shrieking  siren 
whistles  broke  upon  their  ears. 

"Ach,  supper ! "  cried  Jakey.  "  I  just  hopes  we  has 
cabbage  again ! " 

One  by  one  the  children  scattered,  leaving  Sarah  alone 
with  the  Maloney  baby  and  the  dog.  She  wheeled  the 
rickety  coach  as  gently  as  possible  over  the  rough  way  of 
the  Court. 

"  Poor  kid,"  she  said  as  she  peered  in  at  the  child,  "  if 
you  ain't  went  to  sleep  in  all  that  racket!  Guess  your 


22  THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

ma'll  be  glad,  then  she  can  get  supper  'fore  you  wake  up. 

Poor  kid "  Something  in  the  rigid  position  of  the 

child  arrested  her  attention.  She  bent  lower  and  lifted 
one  of  the  tiny  hands ;  it  fell  lifelessly  back.  Real  terror 
seized  her  then ;  she  shook  the  child  tenderly  and  called, 
"  Baby,  darlin',  wake  up  and  smile  for  Sade."  But  the 
eager  call  met  with  no  response;  the  child  was  beyond 
call  of  human  voice.  Sarah  snatched  it  from  the  coach 
and  ran  into  the  Maloney  house.  "  The  baby,"  she 
panted,  "  the  baby's  dead !  " 

The  mother's  cry  brought  a  crowd  of  curious  residents 
of  the  Court.  Sarah  had  to  tell  over  and  over  the  story 
of  the  trip  to  the  park,  how  the  baby  had  enjoyed  the 
cool  shade  and  had  even  smiled  its  thanks,  and  how  as  she 
wheeled  it  home  she  thought  it  was  asleep.  It  was  merely 
an  incident  in  the  sordid  life  of  Red  Rose  Court,  but  to 
Sarah  it  was  a  tragedy.  The  little  hands  had  clung  to 
her  so  confidingly,  the  face  had  looked  up  into  hers  with 
so  piteous  a  smile.  How  it  had  seemed  to  understand 
when  she  told  that  fairy  tale  about  the  heaven  she'd  like 
to  take  it  to !  Was  there  such  a  heaven  ?  Was  even  then 
the  Maloney  baby  in  a  place  where  cool  breezes  swept 
their  healing  over  it  ? 

As  she  walked  away  from  the  squalid  Maloney  home 
something  the  bereaved  mother  had  said  in  her  grief, 
something  about  God  knowing  best,  set  Sarah  pondering. 
Mrs.  Maloney  was  a  devout  Catholic,  and  many  of  her 
sayings  lingered  in  the  mind  of  Sarah,  who  never  heard 
the  name  of  God  spoken  in  her  own  home  except  when 
used  in  blasphemy.  All  Sarah  Burkhart  knew  of  matters 
divine  and  supernatural  was  the  meagre,  visionary  knowl- 
edge she  could  cull  from  the  few  residents  of  Red  Rose 
Court  who  clung  to  their  religion  despite  the  low  estate 


RED  ROSE  COURT  23 

to  which  they  had  descended.  Was  Mrs.  Maloney  right ; 
did  God  know  best?  Was  He  kind  when  He  took  the 
baby  away?  Just  how  He  took  it  wasn't  clear  to  the 
girl.  She  knew  it  would  be  placed  in  a  little  box  and 
buried  in  the  cemetery,  for  she  had  seen  it  happen  many 
times.  How  did  God  get  it  ?  Perhaps  at  night  when  no 
one  could  see,  angels  came  and  took  it  to  heaven.  She 
could  visualize  the  baby's  smile  when  the  angels  woke  it 
and  carried  it  off  to  heaven.  But  how  she'd  miss  it,  how 
she  missed  it  already !  Why,  every  day  while  Mrs.  Ma- 
loney was  at  work,  she  had  kept  the  baby,  loved  it,  carried 
it  around  and  tried  to  keep  it  happy.  She  knew  how  to 
fill  its  bottle,  and  she  had  adored  the  way  the  little  hands 
had  reached  up  for  the  milk.  Now  it  was  dead,  and  Mrs. 
Maloney,  although  a  widow  with  a  number  of  other  chil- 
dren to  care  for,  would  be  lonely  without  her  baby.  She 
knew  why  it  had  died ;  the  heat  of  Red  Rose  Court  was 
too  intense  for  it.  Gee,  it  was  a  tough  place  for  babies ! 
Why  was  so  much  grass  in  the  park  and  front  of  some 
persons'  houses  and  not  one  stalk  in  Red  Rose  Court? 
Why  could  some  people  live  in  the  big  cool  houses  they 
passed  on  the  way  to  the  park  and  others  had  to  live  in 
places  like  the  one  in  which  she  lived?  Why  could  lots 
of  babies  be  taken  care  of  in  fine  homes  and  have  com- 
fortable beds  and  others,  like  the  Maloney  baby,  had  to 
drag  along  or  die  in  the  death-ridden  slums  ? 

*'  God," — she  lifted  her  face  and  heart  to  the  sky,  the 
narrow  sky  that  looked  down  even  above  the  Court — 
"  God,  I  ain't  sure  where  you  are.  I  been  to  church  with 
Catholics  and  Jews  and  Pros'tants,  and  every  one  of  them 
thinks  they  got  you  in  their  place,  but  I  heard  the  Salva- 
tion Army  guys  sing  and  tell  that  you  was  everywhere,  so 
mebbe  you  ain't  so  far  from  Red  Rose  Court  that  you 


24          THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

can't  hear  me.  If  you  can  hear  me,  why  I  want  to  ask 
you  can't  you  fix  some  things  a  little  better?  The  Ma- 
loney  baby  just  died  because  it  couldn't  live  no  longer  in 
Red  Rose  Court,  for  that's  a  hell  of  a  hole — dirty  and 
awful  smelly — but  I  guess  I  hadn't  ought  to  talk  to  you 
like  this,  only  I  don'  know  much  about  you  and  the  proper 
way  to  speak.  I  can't  act  the  lady  good,  for  I  ain't  never 
been  learned,  but  I  guess  you  can  understand  what  I 
mean.  Please  try  to  make  it  a  little  nicer  for  some  of  the 
poor  babies  like  the  one  just  died,  so  they  needn't  die 
from  being  hot  and  not  havin'  what's  right  to  eat.  If 
you  do  that,  God,  I'll  say  hurrah  for  you !  " 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   COUNTERFEITER 

THE  place  Sarah  called  her  home  was  a  hovel  of  the 
dreariest  type.  Foul  air  of  cooking,  heat  and  accumu- 
lated filth  greeted  her  as  she  stepped  into  the  room. 
Against  one  wall  a  table  covered  with  a  torn  brown  oil- 
cloth was  littered  with  unsightly  heaps  of  soiled  dishes 
upon  which  remnants  of  food  attracted  great  swarms  of 
flies. 

Sarah  gave  one  glance  at  the  table,  then  she  called, 
"Ma,  oh  ma!" 

She  received  no  answer. 

"  Puppy,"  she  confided  to  the  dog,  "  she's  out  again. 
Bet  she's  to  Murphy's.  If  she  comes  back  soused  you 
better  stick  close  to  me.  But  she  better  not  touch  you, 
that's  what ! "  A  fierce  joy  of  possession  coursed  through 
the  child  as  she  spoke.  "  The  baby  I  liked  is  dead  so 
you're  all  I  got  now,  and  my  pa."  She  bent  and  bestowed 
a  kiss  upon  the  shaggy  fur  of  the  puppy,  then  began  to 
ascend  the  narrow,  dark  stairs. 

"  Won't  pa  be  surprised  ?  "  she  said.  "  He'll  like  you, 
I  bet." 

Very  quietly  she  opened  the  door  of  a  small  closet  in 
the  corner  of  a  low-ceilinged  room  at  the  head  of  the 
stairs.  Rows  of  hooks  hung  with  old  clothes  lined  the 
three  walls  of  the  closet.  Sarah  stepped  inside  the  nar- 
row place,  pulled  the  door  close  behind  her  and  with  her 
free  hand  groped  under  the  clothes  until  her  fingers 


26  THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

found  a  small  groove.  In  a  moment  she  had  opened  a 
door  only  wide  enough  to  admit  sidewise  entrance  into 
a  tiny  room  beyond  the  closet. 

The  girl  stepped  quickly  into  the  room  and  closed  the 
door.  At  the  sound  a  man  looked  up  nervously. 

"  It's  only  Sade,"  she  hastened  to  reassure  him.  "  See 
what  I  got ! " 

The  man  was  thin,  stooped  and  contracted,  as  though 
the  little  room  had  pressed  upon  him  from  all  sides.  His 
face  was  stamped  with  marks  of 'weakness  and  dejec- 
tion. The  flickering  light  of  a  gas  burner  flared  in  his 
face  as  he  stood  over  his  work — he  was  a  clever  counter- 
feiter of  American  money ! 

Originally  the  little  room  in  which  he  sat  had  been  part 
of  the  closet.  It  was  without  windows,  one  tiny  skylight 
admitting  a  pitiably  small  amount  of  the  glorious  light  of 
day  and  the  health-renewing  fresh  air.  Shelves  piled 
with  boxes,  a  table  with  tools,  and  a  stool  upon  which  the 
man  sat,  occupied  most  of  the  floor  space  of  the  room,  so 
that  there  was  scant  space  for  the  child  to  stand. 

As  she  greeted  him  he  stopped  working.  "  Hello, 
Sade,"  he  replied  softly.  "  Where  did  you  get  the  dog?  " 

"  Out  in  the  park.  A  boy  was  hurtin'  him  and  I  told 
him  skiddo  and  kept  the  dog.  I  won't  let  nothin'  get  hurt 
I  can  help ;  you  wouldn't  neither,  pa  ?  " 

"  No "  the  man  seemed  to  sink  into  a  revery  while 

the  child  petted  the  puppy. 

"Ain't  he  a.  nice  dog,  pa?"  she  asked  after  a  few 
minutes. 

"  Umph,  yes,"  he  answered  absently,  then  roused  him- 
self and  patted  the  dog's  head.  "  What'll  ma  say?"  he 
suggested. 

Sarah  frowned  as  she  replied  quickly,  "  Ma  can  say 


THE  COUNTERFEITER  27 

what  she's  a  mind  to — the  dog's  mine  and  he  stays  with 
me." 

"  I  hope  she  won't  whip  you  again,"  the  man  said 
nervously. 

"  Who  cares  if  I  don't ! "  she  spoke  contemptuously. 
"  I  ain't  afraid  of  her,  ain't  afraid  of  nobody  nor  nothin' 
but  snakes ! " 

The  man  smiled  wearily  and  Sarah  added  in  a  matter- 
of-fact  way,  "  She's  out  again,  guess  down  to  Murphy's." 

"  I  suppose  so.  Sarah,  when  you  are  older  I'll  tell  you 
about  your  own  mother.  She  was  different — oh,  mercy, 
mercy,  how  low  I've  gone !  I'll  tell  you,  Sade,  you  come 
from  good  stock,  your  pa  is  the  crocked,  rotten  branch 
of  a  noble  tree.  Some  day  perhaps  you'll  be  able  to  meet 
your  relations,  but  not  now,  not  now.  I'm  going  to 
quit!" 

The  strain  was  a  new  one  to  Sarah;  her  father  had 
never  spoken  about  her  people  before,  had  evaded  her 
questions,  would  not  even  admit  that  she  had  any  rela- 
tives in  the  world  other  than  him.  What  ailed  him,  what 
did  he  mean  when  he  said  he  was  going  to  quit  ? 

"  Quit  ?  "  she  echoed.  "  Quit  what  ?  Makin'  money  ?  " 
she  asked  eagerly. 

"  Yes.  I  should  have  never  begun  it.  But  I  did  and 
when  I  see  it  come  out  so  like  the  real  thing  it  seems  to 
hold  me  and  just  make  me  keep  on.  But  I'm  going  to 
stop  right  now.  I  started  taking  the  things  apart.  I'm 
going  to  break  them  so  that  no  one  coming  here  after  me 
can  be  tempted.  To-morrow  we'll  clear  out  and  find 
some  nice  home,  far  from  this  dirty  place,  and  live  right." 

"  Will  you  take  me  and  ma  and  the  dog  ?  " 

"Yes.  Now  take  the  dog  and  feed  him  and  let  me 
finish  up." 


28          THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

Sarah  crept  through  the  narrow  door  and  the  dark 
closet  and  went  down  to  the  kitchen.  The  prospect  of 
moving  away  from  the  miserable  place  in  Red  Rose 
Court  and  being  freed  from  the  dreadful  concern  about 
her  father's  safety  put  a  new  gladness  into  her  heart. 

As  she  entered  the  untidy  kitchen  a  woman  came  slowly 
in  from  the  street. 

"  Ho,  ma,"  the  girl  greeted  her.     "  Where  you  been  ?  " 

The  woman  laughed  hilariously.  It  was  evident  that 
she  had  imbibed  too  freely  of  some  intoxicant.  "  Where 
have  I  been  ?  "  she  repeated.  "  Where  have  I  been  ?  To 
heaven,  don't  I  look  it  ?  Got  supper  ready  ? "  She 
glanced  at  the  table — "  Now,  Sade,  where  you  been — to 
heaven  too?  No  supper  made,"  she  laughed  good-na- 
turedly, "no  supper  made  and  your  poor  sick  pa,  him 
that's  so  sick  that  he  can't  come  down-stairs  to  his  meals 
sometimes,  him  that  only  once  in  a  while  can  sit  at  the 
window  and  wave  to  my  friends,  him,  your  poor  sick  pa, 
has  to  wait  for  his  supper !  Ha,  ha,  it's  sick  he  is,  sick 
with  a  conscience!  And  serves  him  darned  right  for 
keepin'  a  conscience,  /  say.  Sade,  that  pa  of  yourn  is  a 
poor  sport.  His  spine's  turning  to  jelly."  Here  she 
seated  herself  in  a  rickety  chair.  "Whew,"  she 
whistled,  "  chair's  wobbly."  She  steadied  herself  by 
holding  on  to  the  table  and  went  on  in  her  talkative  strain. 

"  Say,  Sade,  d'you  mind  the  day  some  one  told  about 
your  pa  bein'  sick  and  one  of  them  busybody  nurses  came 
to  see  him?  How  you  talked  with  her  down  here  and  I 
went  and  pulled  him  out  his  '  labaratory  '  as  he  calls  that 
nice  little  room,  and  how  I  stuffed  pillows  back  of  him 
and  told  the  nurse  he  was  gettin'  better  and  we  didn't 
need  no  help.  Lucky  for  us  then  that  he  looks  pinched 
and  thin  like  he  had  the  consumption,  lucky  for  us.  Bet 


THE  COUNTERFEITER  29 

he's  got  the  real  con,  too,  by  this  time;  look  at  him,  so 
thin  you  could  say  '  pouf '  and  out  he'd  go !  Yessir, 
Sade,  that  pa  o'  yourn  ain't  long  for  this  world,  but  it's  a 
good  thing  for  he's  gettin'  too  good  for  the  likes  o'  us. 
What's  that  thing  you  got  there  ?  "  she  demanded,  notic- 
ing for  the  first  time  the  dog  in  Sarah's  arm. 

"A  dog.     I'm  goin'  to  keep  him." 

"Keep  him,  that  dirty  little  bundle  of  a  dog — not 
much !  Out  he  goes !  " 

She  half  rose  from  her  chair  but  Sarah  stepped  to  her 
quickly,  a  menacing  frown  on  her  face. 

"  Sit  down,  ma,  you're  drunk !    The  dog  stays." 

"  The  dog  goes ! "  the  woman  retorted,  her  mood 
changed  suddenly  from  jovial  hilarity  to  nasty  ill-temper. 
A  sharp  torrent  of  abuse  leaped  to  her  lips — "  You  black- 
haired  brat  with  freckles  and  a  pug  nose,  d'you  think 
you'll  boss  me  ?  I'll  kill  that  dog !  " 

"  Then  I'll  put  the  cop  wise  to  that  watch  you  stole 
Christmas  and  you'll  go  up  for  a  while."  Sarah  spoke 
very  deliberately  so  that  the  woman  might  not  fail  to 
grasp  the  significance  of  her  words. 

A  livid  rage  spread  over  the  ugly  face  of  the  woman. 
"  You,  you  brat !  "  she  sputtered.  "  You're  a  witch ! 
How  do  you  know  I  stole  that  watch?  You're  a  witch, 
I'd  like  to  kill  you !  " 

"  Then  pa'd  kill  you  and  you  know  it !  " 

"  Humph,  guess  he  would  get  ravin'  if  I  hurt  you." 
The  woman  was  silent  for  a  moment.  "  He  thinks  you're 
an  angel — makes  me  sick ! "  Her  anger  cooled  as  sud- 
denly as  it  had  risen.  Presently  she  said  more  calmly, 
"  Your  pa  should  have  been  a  parson  or  some  such  softy. 
Says  he  was  good  till  he  married  me,  says  his  first  wife 
was  an  angel  and  looked  just  like  you — uh,  swell  lookin' 


30  THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  (CURB 

angel  you'd  make,  with  freckles  and  a  pug  nose — humph, 
makes  me  sick." 

"  Hush,  ma,"  cautioned  the  child.  "  You  talk  too  loud, 
the  whole  Court'll  come  in  to  hear  the  row.  Better  go  lie 
down  and  get  sober  while  I'll  get  supper.  You  want  to 
sleep  off  that  drunk  for  we  pull  out  o'  Red  Rose  Court 
to-morrow.  Pa  said  so.  We're  goin'  off  to  a  new  place 
far  from  here  and  we're  goin'  to  live  in  a  clean  place  and 
live  right,  begin  all  over  again,  pa  said." 

"  Huh  ?  "  The  woman  looked  up  eagerly.  "  Your  pa 
said  that?" 

"  Yes.  He  just  told  me.  He  wants  to  live  right 
now  and  not  make  money  or  do  what's  wrong.  I'm 
glad.  Mebbe  I  can  have  a  new  dress  once  in  a  while 
and  if  we  live  in  a  clean  place  pa  will  stop  bein*  so 
thin  and  sick  lookin' — did  you  know  the  Maloney  baby 
died?" 

"  Naw,  did  it — good  riddance  of  the  pesky  brat.  That 
stops  your  draggin'  it  round  all  the  time." 

"  You — ain't  you  got  no  heart  ?  "  Sarah  asked  fiercely, 
but  the  sorrow  of  the  child's  death  left  her  in  no  mood 
to  quarrel  about  it.  She  sighed,  and  said,  "  Go  sleep 
while  I  fix  the  grub." 

The  woman  staggered  into  the  adjoining  room  and 
threw  herself  upon  a  shabby  couch.  She  closed  her  eyes 
but  did  not  sleep.  The  revelation  of  Sarah  sobered  her 
muddled  brain  as  if  by  magic. 

"  So,"  she  thought,  "  this  is  the  end.  He's  afraid  of 
that  conscience.  He  thinks  he'll  drag  us  off  to  some 
place  out  of  the  world  and  have  us  live  right.  That 
means  I  take  care  of  the  kid  and  work  like  a  slave  to 
keep  a  house  clean  and  mebbe  even  go  to  church  every 
week — watch  me!  I'm  in  the  game  too  long  to  leave  it 


THE  COUNTERFEITER  31 

to  turn  missionary."  She  lay  very  quiet,  formulating  a 
plan. 

When  Sarah  called  her  for  supper  she  walked  steadily 
into  the  kitchen,  much  to  the  child's  surprise. 

"Feel  all  right?" 

"  Yes,  Sade,  I  feel  good ;  guess  knowin'  that  we're  goin' 
out  of  this  rotten  Red  Rose  Court  helps.  You  can  keep 
the  dog,  I  don't  care." 

Sarah  smiled.  "  Yes,  I  was  goin'  to  keep  him,"  she 
said  quietly. 

Later  the  woman  went  up-stairs  and  found  her  way  to 
the  room  beyond  the  closet.  Again  the  man  turned  sus- 
piciously at  the  sound  of  the  opening  door,  then  smiled  in 
relief.  "  Oh,  it's  you,  Mary.  Where  have  you  been  all 
day?" 

"  Out,"  she  said  curtly,  then  added  more  kindly, 
"  Come  out  to  the  room.  I  have  your  supper  there ;  it's 
too  hot  in  here." 

"  Thanks,  Mary,"  he  said  as  he  followed  her  into  the 
larger  room  where  the  heat  was  several  degrees  less  in- 
tense. 

"  Sade  tells  me  you  want  to  quit  and  move  out  of  here." 

"Yes,  Mary.  I'm  tired  of  this  awful  life!"  He 
raised  a  hand  to  his  throat — "  I'm  choking  in  there. 
We'll  go  away  and  begin  life  again.  We  can  get  a  little 
place  in  the  country  and  earn  an  honest  living  and  there 
Sade  can  grow  into  a  woman  like  she  ought.  Lord,  to  be 
out  in  the  air,  free,  once  more — what  it  will  be  for  me !  I 
haven't  lived  these  years  I  worked  in  that  hole  back  of 
the  closet,  I've  been  dying!  What  do  you  say — can  you 
be  ready  to  pull  out  in  the  morning?  We'll  take  just  our 
clothes;  the  rest  isn't  worth  ten  cents.  Can  you  be 
ready  ?  " 


32          THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

"  Yes,  I'll  be  ready,"  she  assented  simply,  making  no 
comment  on  the  plan. 

Her  ready  acquiescence  touched  the  man.  "  Mary, 
you're  good  to  go  without  fussing.  I  was  afraid  you 
might  be  hard  to  manage,  but  I'm  glad  there  is  so  much 
more  good  in  you  than  I  dreamed.  I  am  sorry  I  mis- 
judged you.  You  will  have  a  new  chance,  too.  In  the 
country,  away  from  evil  influences  of  the  city,  you  and  I 
can  learn  to  be  happy  together.  We  must  make  Sarah 
forget  these  years  in  the  slums — slums — I  have  kept  my 
child  in  the  slums " 

"  Sure,  it's  never  too  late  to  mend,  the  preachers  say," 
the  woman  consoled  him. 

After  she  went  away  and  he  returned  to  the  little  room 
to  complete  the  task  of  wrecking  the  counterfeiting  outfit, 
he  thought  of  the  woman.  How  much  more  tractable  she 
was  than  he  had  dared  to  hope,  how  fortunate  that  she 
was  willing  to  share  his  trial  at  a  new,  better  life !  There 
was  good  in  her,  after  all.  Perhaps  she  would  yet  come 
to  love  the  child  and  try  to  be  a  mother  to  her — the  child, 
the  little  girl  who  looked  so  like  the  woman  he  first  loved, 
the  only  woman  he  ever  loved — how  he  had  wronged  her ! 
Had  he  been  under  the  spell  of  some  evil  power,  had  it  all 
been  a  hideous  nightmare,  or  did  he  really  bring  an  inno- 
cent child  to  Red  Rose  Court  and  keep  her  there  through 
the  long  years  ?  He  thought  of  the  mother  of  Sarah,  the 
woman  who  had  been  with  him  for  a  few  short  wonderful 
years,  whose  going  out  had  shattered  his  very  centers  of 
being,  whose  absence  he  had  mourned  and  tried  to  forget 
in  vice.  For  years  he  had  failed  so  grievously  in  his  duty 
to  the  child  that  the  mere  thought  of  that  pure,  devoted 
.wife  sent  him  shivering  with  shame  and  remorse.  But 
now — he  resolved  he  would  atone  for  the  neglect,  and  the 


THE  COUNTERFEITER  33 

spirit  of  that  first  love  would  yet  find  cause  to  be  proud 
of  him.  He  would  take  up  his  long-neglected  duty  of 
being  a  good  father  to  her,  she  should  grow  into  a  noble 
woman  as  her  mother  had  been — so  he  dreamed  and 
planned  through  the  long  night  until  he  fell  asleep. 

Morning  dawned  fair  and  sultry  in  Red  Rose  Court. 
Early  in  the  day  Sarah's  stepmother  turned  to  the  child 
and  said  pleasantly,  "  I'm  goin'  out  for  a  little  while. 
You  know  the  rent  is  due  and  I  want  to  pay  it  so  there 
won't  be  any  followin'  up  on  us." 

"  Sure,  ma,  we  don't  want  to  do  anything  to  send  the 
cops  after  us  now  when  pa  wants  to  go  straight.  While 
you're  off  I'll  put  the  clothes  in  our  bags,  mine  in  the  old 
brown  satchel  and  yourn  and  pa's  in  the  big  bag.  Gee, 
I'll  be  glad  to  get  to  a  nice  place  to  live.  Guess  I'll  be 
thinkin'  I'm  in  heaven  with  the  Maloney  baby  when  I  get 
out  o'  this  dirty  hole  and  live  in  the  country.  Oh,  I 
couldn't  be  happier  if  I  had  new  shoes  and  dress  and  hat 
all  at  one  whack !  I'll  be  glad  to  live  nice." 

"  Guess  you  will,"  the  woman  said.  Then  she  pursed 
her  lips,  laughed  so  gaily  that  the  child  looked  up,  aston- 
ished at  the  sound,  and  a  few  minutes  later  the  step- 
mother of  Sarah  Burkhart  went  out  through  the  arched 
alleyway,  away  from  Red  Rose  Court. 

Some  time  later  a  ragged  little  boy  accosted  a  police- 
man and  handed  him  a  soiled  letter  marked  "  Important." 

"A  lady  give  me  a  quarter  to  give  this  to  a  policeman," 
the  boy  explained. 

The  officer  opened  the  note  and  read : 

"If  you  want  to  catch  a  conterfitter  go  to  number  46  in 
Red  rose  cort.  Be  sure  to  hurry  before  he  gets  wise  I'm 
sqeeling.  Go  up  the  stairs  to  the  second  floor  and  find 
the  closet,  there  ain't  more  than  one,  and  push  in  the  back 


34  THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURtf 

of  it  and  see  what  you  find.  And  tell  the  man  I  hope  he 
likes  that  nice  new  home  where  he's  going  to." 

Sarah  was  so  busy  in  her  haphazard  way,  packing  the 
few  miserably  poor  belongings  she  felt  they  wished  to 
carry  with  them  as  they  started  off  on  the  great  adventure 
of  finding  that  new  home  in  the  country  where  her  father 
could  begin  all  over  again  and  she  could  grow  into  a  lady 
as  he  had  promised  her  she  would,  that  the  length  of  her 
stepmother's  stay  did  not  alarm  her  at  once.  But  at 
length  she  murmured  to  her  father,  "  I  don't  see  where 
ma  stays  so  long.  Hope  she  ain't  off  again  to  Murphy's." 

"  Oh,  no,"  he  replied  cheerily,  "  she  wouldn't  do  that. 
She  seems  most  as  anxious  as  we  to  get  out  of  this  place. 
Perhaps  she  will  be  nicer  to  you  when  we  get  to  the  new 
place.  There  must  be  more  good  in  her  than  I  thought. 
She  was  so  different  when  I  married  her,  so  kind  to  you 
and  kept  the  house  tidy,  but  since  we  sank  to  Red  Rose 

Court  she "  he  sighed.  "  What's  the  good  of  talking 

about  it !  We  want  to  forget  this  place.  Guess  she'll  be 
here  soon." 

"  Mebbe  so,"  said  Sarah  gloomily.  "  I  wish  she'd 
come." 

"  Don't  worry,  she'll  be  here  soon.  While  you  wait  for 
her  you  might  come  up  to  the  little  room  and  help  me 
carry  down  some  of  the  tools  and  take  apart  the  things  I 
used — you  know,  the  outfit" 

The  two  crept  through  the  closet  and  entered  the  small, 
stuffy  workshop. 

"  Gee,  it's  hot  here ! "  Sarah  exclaimed.  "  It's  so 
darned  hard  to  get  your  breath  here  that  it's  no  wonder 
you  look  like  the  wrath  of  Moses.  I  bet  you're  glad  to 
get  out  of  this  place  and  kiss  the  little  room  good-bye." 


THE  COUNTERFEITER  35 

"  Yes,  when  I  get  to  the  country  I  can  hold  my  head  up 
once  more.  There'll  be  trees  and  birds " 

"  Oh,  pa ! "  She  clapped  her  hands.  "  Trees  and 
birds — just  what  I  always  wished  I  could  live  near !  I'm 
so  glad  I  could  cry !  Ain't  you  glad  too  ?  " 

"  Yes."     The  man's  voice  trembled. 

Sarah  looked  at  him,  her  quick  intuition  helping  her  to 
understand  what  the  life  in  that  dark,  narrow  room  must 
have  been  to  the  man.  "  You  don't  look  good,  pa."  She 
eyed  him  solicitously. 

"  It's  been  awful,  but  I'll  feel  better  soon,  especially 
when  my  conscience  stops  condemning  me  so  dreadfully." 

"  What's  a  conscience  ? " 

But  the  man  was  spared  an  explanation.  A  sudden 
noise  in  the  house  startled  them.  Both  stood  in  an  atti- 
tude of  attentiveness. 

"  There's  ma  now,"  said  the  child.  "  I'll  go  down  and 
ask  her  if  she  wants  that  black  skirt  packed." 

She  opened  the  door,  closed  it,  groped  through  the  dark 
closet  and  opened  the  door  into  the  bedroom  and  then 
found  herself  face  to  face  with  two  men ! 

"  What  d'you  want  here  ?  "  she  demanded,  shielding  the 
door  with  her  tiny  form. 

"  Hold  the  kid,  Joe,"  the  one  man  cautioned  the  other, 
then  he  stepped  quickly  past  her,  through  the  closet  and 
into  the  laboratory  before  the  stooped  counterfeiter  had 
time  to  defend  himself.  Weak  from  long  confinement 
and  foul  air,  the  offender  could  not  combat  a  husky  offi- 
cer of  the  law  armed  with  club  and  revolver.  As  the 
handcuffs  snapped  about  the  thin  wrists  of  the  man  he 
paled  and  would  have  fallen  had  not  the  strong  arm  of 
the  officer  supported  him.  The  suddenness  and  unex- 
pectedness of  the  arrest  staggered  the  counterfeiter  com- 


36          THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

pletely  and  left  him  shaking  and  bowed  like  a  tree  upon 
which  a  mighty  storm  has  raged. 

Sarah,  held  firmly  in  the  grip  of  the  second  officer, 
grew  purple  with  rage,  then  pale,  as  she  beheld  the  fate 
of  her  father  and  realized  its  significance.  The  thing  she 
had  dreaded  for  a  whole  year,  ever  since  the  day  she  had 
unwittingly  stumbled  upon  the  little  room  back  of  the 
closet, — the  thing  that  had  haunted  her  dreams  and  hov- 
ered darkly  about  her  waking  hours,  the  awful  thing  had 
come  to  pass  at  the  very  moment  when  she  thought  relief 
from  worry  was  at  hand:  her  father's  transgression 
against  the  law  was  discovered,  he  was  arrested  and 
would  be  taken  away  from  her ! 

The  fierce,  impulsive  anger  that  was  characteristic  of 
her  nature  rushed  upon  her  with  a  new  force.  She 
struggled  against  the  hold  of  the  man,  she  kicked  and 
screamed  and  fought  with  wild,  demoniac  fierceness,  but 
all  to  no  avail. 

"  Behave  yourself,  kid,"  he  said,  not  unkindly.  "  Your 
father  ain't  dead  yet." 

Then  the  child  changed  her  tactics  and  resorted  to 
pleading  and  alluring  coaxing.  Her  eyes  brimmed  with 
tears  as  she  looked  up  into  the  face  of  the  big  man  who 
gripped  her. 

"  Please,"  she  begged,  "  please  let  him  go !  Don't  take 
him  off  to  jail,  don't  take  him  away  from  me.  He's  all  I 
got  in  the  world  but  a  puppy  dog.  He  ain't  goin'  to  make 
no  more  of  that  bad  money  with  a  machine.  He  was 
sorry  he  done  it  and  we  have  everything  fixed  to  pull  out 
of  this  hole  and  go  some  place  nice  and  live  like  decent 
folks.  Please,  let  him  go,  please !  " 

But  the  man  shook  his  head.  "  Can't  do  it,  kid. 
Duty's  duty." 


THE  COUNTERFEITER  37 

"  But  it  can't  be  your  duty  to  get  him  sent  up  for 
long  and  me — what'll  become  o'  me?  I  ain't  got  no 
other  relations,  only  him  and  my  dog.  Oh,  why  did 
youse  come  here?  Why  don't  ma  come  and  chase  you 
off?" 

A  queer,  pitying  smile  flitted  across  the  face  of  the 
man.  Sarah  read  its  meaning  instantly. 

"  Ma  squealed !  "  she  cried.  "  I  see  it  in  your  face ! 
Oh,  the  dirty  cat,  I  could  kill  her ! " 

The  officer  released  her.  "  Guess  we  better  take  you 
along,  for  I'm  thinking  you  won't  want  to  stay  with  that 
stepmother.  Go  get  anything  you  want  to  take,  but  bet- 
ter hurry  up,  we're  going  soon." 

A  little  later  the  two  men  and  the  handcuffed  incarna- 
tion of  misery,  waiting  in  the  kitchen,  looked  up  at  the 
sound  of  the  child's  step.  She  had  snatched  an  old  hat 
from  one  corner,  tried  to  pull  her  black  hair  into  a  less 
jumbled  mass,  and  in  one  hand  she  carried  the  shabby 
brown  satchel  containing  her  clothes,  on  the  other  arm  the 
little  dog  lay  curled. 

"  What,  you  taking  a  dog  ?  "  asked  the  man  who  had 
tried  to  be  kind  to  her. 

"  Bet  your  buttons  I  am !  I  don't  go  nowheres  this  dog 
can't  go!  He's  mine,  belongs  to  me.  I  got  to  look  out 
for  him,  ain't  I  ?  " 

"  Poor  kid,"  thought  the  officer  compassionately,  "  let 
her  take  it,  it'll  be  all  she'll  have  to  console  her  when  her 
father  leaves  her."  Aloud  he  said,  "Well,  take  him 
along-  Perhaps  you  can  keep  him." 

A  curious  crowd  gathered  quickly  in  Red  Rose  Court. 
Dowdy,  miserable  looking  men  and  women  and  a  swarm 
of  frightened,  interested  children  waited  anxiously  for 
the  development  of  the  officers'  visit  to  the  Burkhart 


38          THE  MADONNA  OE  THE  CURB 

home.  As  the  three  men  and  the  child  stepped  from  the 
house  little  Jakey  ran  to  Sarah. 

"Ach,  Sade,"  he  wailed,  "  where  you  goin*  at  ?  Are 
you  comin'  back  soon  ?  Why's  your  pa  pinched  ?  " 

But  the  girl  shook  her  head  and  would  not  satisfy  the 
curiosity  of  Jakey  and  the  others.  Only  when  she 
reached  the  exit  from  the  familiar  Red  Rose  Court  did 
she  trust  herself  to  speak — she  called  out  a  sorrowful 
"  Good-bye." 

So  the  little  procession  went  out  from  Red  Rose  Court 
— the  prisoner  drooping,  silent  and  unresisting;  the  two 
officers  dignified  and  awe-inspiring;  Sarah  sad  and  agi- 
tated, her  heart  throbbing  painfully;  the  dog  panting 
gently  and  turning  great  brown  eyes  to  the  troubled  face 
of  his  new  mistress.  It  was  only  the  beginning  of  the 
reaping  that  which  inevitably  follows  sowing  to  the  whirl- 
wind. Sad  it  is  that  the  offender  cannot  reap  alone  and 
be  done  with  it,  that  the  one  who  sins  cannot  eat  all  the 
bitter  bread  that  springs  from  his  sowing,  that  innocent 
children  must  share  in  the  harvest. 


CHAPTER  III 

SUNSET  MOUNTAIN 

THE  great  city  of  which  Red  Rose  Court  is  a  part 
maintains  for  its  derelict  children  a  reformatory  mod- 
ernly  built  and  conducted.  Situated  eight  miles  from  the 
city  it  lies  in  a  pleasant  country  place  where  the  beneficial 
open  air  can  combine  with  human  agencies  for  reforma- 
tion of  the  unfortunate  inmates.  The  boys'  cottages  form 
a  small  group  at  the  foot  of  a  great  mountain,  while  upon 
the  summit  of  the  hill,  appropriately  called  Sunset 
Mountain,  stands  the  girls'  cottage. 

To  that  place  Sarah  Burkhart  was  committed  after  her 
father's  incarceration  pending  trial  as  a  counterfeiter.  A 
reformatory — what  evil  thing  had  she  done  to  be  placed 
in  a  reformatory  ?  The  little  Madonna  of  the  curb,  who 
had  held  for  long  hours  the  peevish  Maloney  baby  and 
ministered  to  it  according  to  her  meagre  knowledge  and 
her  rich  maternal  instinct — what  tribunal  could  mete  out 
to  her  segregation  with  vicious  lawbreakers  whose  youth 
alone  saved  them  from  heavier  punishments?  Sarah 
Burkhart  had  in  all  her  squalid  young  life  wrought  no 
greater  harm  than  fight  the  bullies  of  Red  Rose  Court; 
deride  selfish  children  of  the  gutter;  garnish  her  speech 
with  oaths  whose  virulence  she  could  not  understand; 
have  familiarity  with  grating  slang;  staunchly  brave  the 
wrath  and  cruelty  of  her  stepmother.  Yet  she  was  or- 


40  THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

dered  to  spend  a  number  of  years  in  the  city  reformatory 
and  be  branded  with  its  stigma  forever  after.  The  law 
was  inexorable.  There  was  no  friend  to  open  a  door  for 
the  child,  the  father  grimly  refused  to  make  known  the 
name  and  whereabouts  of  any  relatives  who  might  be 
capable  of  caring  for  the  girl — the  reformatory  was  the 
proper  place  for  Sarah  Burkhart,  so  decided  the  arbitra- 
tors of  the  law.  And  to  Sunset  Mountain  Sarah  was 
faced. 

"  For  the  love  o'  Mike,  where  youse  takin'  me  ?  "  the 
girl  asked  the  officer  after  they  had  ridden  an  hour  in  a 
trolley  and  started  up  a  long,  dark  suburban  street. 

"Ain't  much  further  now,  wait  till  you  see  the  fine 
place  you're  going  to,  then  you  won't  mind  the  long 
trip." 

"  Say,  what  you  givin'  me?  "  she  asked  with  a  curl  of 
her  thin  lips.  "  Guess  a  reform'tory  ain't  no  mansion. 
But  I  got  nowheres  else  to  go.  Gosh,  I  could  grind  that 
darned  stepmother  into  powder !  " 

"  It's  all  right,  kid,  you'll  be  happier'n  a  flea  on  the 
collie  when  you  get  up  on  Sunset  Mountain.  And  you 
got  your  dog — mighty  fine  of  the  judge  to  let  you  bring 
him  along." 

"Let  me? — why,  I'd  have  to  take  him  where  I  go! 
That  devil  of  a  stepmother'd  twist  his  neck  right  off  to 
make  up  for  what  she  didn't  dare  do  to  me.  Guess  I 
wouldn't  went  no  place  he  can't  go.  Say,  this  is  some 
climb.  We  goin'  up  there  ?  Gee,  them  steps  reach  clean 
to  heaven?" 

She  stopped  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  where  the  lights 
from  the  boys'  cottages  shone  through  the  darkness  and 
threw  gleams  on  a  steep  flight  of  mountain  steps  leading, 
it  seemedt  into  the  heart  of  a  dense  woods. 


SUNSET  MOUNTAIN  41 

"  Up  we  go,"  said  the  man.  "  Miss  Hughes  is  expect- 
ing us.  I  'phoned  that  we'd  get  out  late." 

"Who's  she?" 

"  The  matron  of  the  girls'  cottage.    You'll  like  her." 

"  Huh,  mebbe  I  will,  mebbe  I  won't.  Ain't  everybody 
I  like — I'm  choicy." 

The  officer  laughed  at  the  child,  but  his  eyes  held  mus- 
ing tenderness  as  he  looked  into  the  face  of  the  little  girl 
who  had  been  placed  in  his  care  to  be  taken  to  Sunset 
Mountain.  He  had  taken  many  girls  to  the  reformatory 
but  none  quite  like  Sarah.  She  was  an  odd  one,  all  right, 
he  told  himself. 

The  numerous  steps  cut  into  the  side  of  the  hill  ended 
in  a  huge  bank  where  a  wide  road  curved  upward,  mean- 
dering to  the  summit  in  a  circuitous  manner.  It  termi- 
nated in  a  wide  plain  where  the  great  building  known  as 
the  girls'  cottage  stood  outlined  against  the  night. 

"  Cottage,"  said  Sarah  scornfully  as  the  building 
loomed  before  them,  "  some  cottage !  " 

The  twenty-five  girls  of  the  reformatory  were  sleeping 
when  the  bell  jingled  and  Miss  Hughes  went  to  the  door 
to  admit  the  new  girl. 

"  Good-evening,  Miss  Hughes,"  the  man  greeted  the 
white-haired  woman  who  opened  the  big  door.  "  I've 
brought  you  a  new  girl,  Sarah  Burkhart,  and  she  wouldn't 
move  without  that  dog  so  the  judge  said  let  her  bring  it 
for  you  might  be  glad  to  have  it,  long  as  you  got  so  much 
grounds  round  the  place.  Looks  like  the  makings  of  a 
fine  collie.  Sarah,  this  is  Miss  Hughes.  You  be  a  good 
girl  and  do  what  Miss  Hughes  tells  you  and  you'll  have  a 
fine  home  here." 

Sarah  looked  very  white  and  thin  as  she  stood  beside 
the  tall  officer  on  the  wide  piazza,  but  the  moonlight  shone 


42          THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

on  her  and  softened  her  unkempt  little  figure.  She 
looked  up  at  Miss  Hughes  and  a  ray  of  light  played  upon 
her  and  revealed  more  plainly  the  narrow  face  and  the 
questioning  gray  eyes. 

As  the  child  neither  smiled  nor  spoke,  but  looked  up 
steadily  at  Miss  Hughes,  the  man  asked  half  sternly, 
"Can't  you  talk?" 

"  Yep,  when  I  got  somethin'  to  say." 

The  man  laughed.  "  Here,  Miss  Hughes,  take  her  in, 
you're  welcome  to  her !  " 

Miss  Hughes  drew  the  girl  into  the  wide  hall  and  after 
the  door  had  closed  upon  the  officer  she  turned  to  Sarah 
and  looked  at  her  under  the  revealing  electric  light. 

"  Well,  Sarah,  why  have  you  been  sent  here  ? "  she 
asked  kindly. 

"  Um,  guess  'cause  I  got  nowheres  else  to  go.  Ma 
squealed  on  pa  for  makin'  money  with  machines  and  the 
cop  said  he'll  be  in  jail  for  long.  There's  nobody  wants 
me  and  they  said  down  to  City  Hall  that  the  place  for  me 
is  here  and  if  I  behave  I'll  have  a  good  home  and  be  kept 
from  goin'  bad.  So  they  sent  me  and  the  dog  up." 

Miss  Hughes  smiled  sympathetically.  "  You'll  be 
happy  here,  Sarah,"  she  said. 

"  Humph,  mebbe  so.  If  you  let  me  keep  my  dog  I'll 
try  it  for  a  while." 

"  We'll  keep  him.     What's  his  name  ?  " 

"  Ain't  named  him  yet." 

"  What  is  in  the  grip  ?  "  She  pointed  to  the  shabby 
brown  bag. 

"  Jest  some  clothes,  but  they  ain't  much  good.  Guess 
they're  lousy,  for  Red  Rose  Court  is  the  darndest  place 
for  crawlers." 

Miss  Hughes  suppressed  a  smile  as  she  replied,  "  We'll 


SUNSET  MOUNTAIN  43 

burn  them.  You  won't  need  your  old  clothes  here,  for 
you  must  wear  blue  dresses  like  the  other  girls." 

"  Gee,  I'm  glad.  I  ain't  had  a  new  dress  in  a  coon's 
age." 

"  Now  come  with  me,"  Miss  Hughes  directed  and  led 
the  way  to  the  laundry.  "  We'll  put  the  dog  to  bed  in  a 
box  here.  Then  I'll  examine  your  hair  and  comb  it  and 
you'll  take  a  bath  and  go  to  bed." 

"  Gee,  this  is  excitin' !  "  the  child  exclaimed  as  she  laid 
the  puppy  into  his  new  bed.  "  Close  them  eyes,  puppy, 
and  go  to  sleep,"  Sarah  said  with  all  the  tenderness  of  her 
big  heart.  Miss  Hughes  marveled  at  the  sudden  richness 
of  the  voice,  the  quick  transition  from  half  mockery  to 
gentle  interest  and  sincerity. 

"  Good-night,  puppy,"  she  whispered  again  as  the  door 
closed.  Then  she  turned  to  the  matron  and  said  imp- 
ishly, "  Now  you  want  to  catch  me  crawlers,  don't 
you?" 

Miss  Hughes  looked  down  at  the  little  figure  and  a 
smile  spread  upon  her  face. 

"  I  am  going  to  comb  your  hair,"  she  said  kindly. 

"  You  comb  every  kid's  hair  that  comes  up  here  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do." 

"  And  you  never  keep  no  bugs  here  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed." 

"  Gee,  this  must  be  a  swell  place  to  live ! " 

"  It  is.    But  come,  child,  it  is  time  you  were  in  bed." 

Miss  Hughes  led  her  to  the  bathroom  on  the  second 
floor  and  when  Sarah  found  herself  in  the  spotless  room 
with  its  glistening  white  tub  and  tile  floor  she  looked 
about  in  frank  wonder. 

"  Do  I  take  a  wash  in  here  ?  "  she  asked,  a  perplexed 
frown  on  her  face. 


43          THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

"  Yes." 

"  But  won't  it  get  dirty  and  spoiled?  " 

Again  the  matron  smiled.  "  No,  child,  this  is  a  bath- 
room. Have  you  never  been  in  a  bathtub  ?  " 

"  No,  but  I  seen  'em  lots  o'  times  in  the  windows.  At 
home  I  used  to  wash  in  an  old  tin  basin,  when  I  did 
wash.  But  I  had  to  wash  real  often  winters  when  I  went 
to  school  for  the  teachers  raise  hell  if  you  come  too  dirty 
— them  teachers  is  fussy  things." 

Miss  Hughes  ignored  the  comment  on  the  teachers. 
"  Sit  here,"  she  told  Sarah  and  drew  a  small  white  chair 
from  against  the  wall. 

The  child  submitted  quietly  to  the  combing  of  her  thick 
black  hair.  After  a  careful  search  among  the  tresses 
Sarah  suddenly  burst  into  laughter. 

"  Find  any  crawlers  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No.     I  thought  you  said " 

"  I  was  jest  foolin'  to  scare  you.  I  ain't  got  no  bugs. 
Did  it  scare  you  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all."  Miss  Hughes  repressed  a  strong  desire 
to  shake  the  child.  "  I  should  have  combed  your  hair 
just  the  same.  It  is  a  rule  of  the  institution  to  examine 
the  hair  of  every  new  girl.  Now  I'll  show  you  how  to  fix 
your  bath  and  then  you'll  be  ready  for  bed." 

"  You  goin'  to  stand  and  watch  me  take  a  wash  ? " 

"  No.  I'll  wait  for  you  across  the  hall.  When  you  are 
bathed  slip  into  this  nightgown  and  call  me.  I'll  take  you 
to  the  room  where  you'll  sleep  to-night." 

Later  came  the  child's  voice  in  a  cheery,  "  I'm  ready," 
and  Miss  Hughes  found  the  new  girl  rosy  from  a  vigor- 
ous application  of  water  and  a  towel.  "  That  white  swim- 
min'  pool's  bully!  Can  I  go  in  again  sometime  if  I 
stay?" 


SUNSET  MOUNTAIN  45 

"  You  take  a  bath  twice  a  week." 

"  Gee,  I  won't  have  no  hide  left  on  me,  with  that  much 
scrubbin' !  You  must  act  like  rich  folks  here !  " 

"  Child,  how  do  you  wear  your  gown?  "  Miss  Hughes 
asked.  The  girl,  unacquainted  with  the  manner  of  night- 
gown fastening,  had  put  it  on  as  though  it  were  a  dress 
and  buttoned  it  down  the  back ! 

"  Ain't  it  right  ?    I  never  had  none  on  before." 

"  It  should  button  down  the  front." 

"  Well,  ain't  that  the  limit !  But  I'll  keep  it  on  this 
way  for  luck." 

Miss  Hughes  led  the  new  girl  to  a  little  room  furnished 
with  a  bureau,  chair  and  a  single  white  bed,  immaculate 
with  snowy  spread. 

"  You  may  sleep  here  to-night.  To-morrow  we'll  give 
you  a  bed  in  the  dormitory  with  the  other  little  girls. 
You  won't  be  afraid  in  here  alone  ?  I'll  be  just  across  the 
hall." 

"  Me  afraid  ?  I  ain't  afraid  of  nobody  nor  nothin'  but 
snakes ! " 

Once  more  the  matron  smiled  at  the  strange  originality 
of  the  child,  but  Sarah,  not  noticing  the  amused  smile, 
went  on  talking. 

"  I  seen  beds  like  this  a'ready,"  she  said  proudly.  "  I 
like  clean  white  things." 

Miss  Hughes  turned  back  the  counterpane.  "  Now, 
Sarah,  kneel  and  say  your  prayers." 

"  Don't  know  none — oh,  yes,  I  do  too,"  she  added 
quickly.  "  Here  goes !  " 

She  knelt  down,  a  ridiculous  little  figure  in  her  white 
nightgown  buttoned  down  the  back  and  her  dark  hair 
streaming  over  her  thin  shoulders.  Then  she  prayed 
aloud : 


46  THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

"  Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep, 
I  hope  the  bugs  will  quiet  keep, 
For  if  they  bite  and  make  me  wake, 
The  coodles  out  o'  them  I'll  shake ! 
God  bless  my  pa  and  my  dog.    Amen." 

She  rose  from  her  knees  and  looked  at  Miss  Hughes. 
There  was  not  the  slightest  hint  of  a  smile  about  her  large 
mouth  or  in  her  gray  eyes  as  she  looked  innocently  into 
the  face  of  the  matron. 

"  Did  you  like  my  prayer  ?  "  she  asked  meekly. 

"  The  last  line  was  very  beautiful,"  Miss  Hughes  said 
quietly.  "  You  should  pray  for  your  father  every  night." 

"  Will  that  help  him — how'll  he  know  about  it  ?  "  came 
the  skeptical  reply.  "  Mrs.  Maloney,  down  to  Red  Rose 
Court,  where  I  used  to  live,  prayed  her  man'd  get  well 
and  he  died,  and  she  prayed  her  baby  would  get  strong 
and  it  died — looks  to  me  like  this  prayin'  stuff  don't  help 
much.  Guess  it's  all  bluff.  The  Catholics  go  to  mass 
and  pray  on  a  rosary  and  the  Jews  go  to  synagogue  and 
they  pray  and  the  'Piscopals  put  on  things  like  a  China- 
man wears,  I  mean  those  that  sing  do,  and  I  guess  they 
pray  when  they  sing  so  a  person  can't  understand  what 
they  sing,  and  I  don't  see  what  good  any  of  it  does.  You 
got  to  show  me.  How  can  it  help  my  pa  when  he's  in 
jail  ?  I  don't  see,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  can  see.  Some  day  I'll  try  to  make  you  under- 
stand. In  the  meantime  take  my  word  for  it — it  does 
help.  Now  creep  into  bed  and  sleep.  Good-night." 

"  Good-night,"  answered  the  child  as  she  slipped  under 
the  covers. 

That  night  Miss  Hughes  thought  long  and  hard  about 
the  new  girl.  "  I've  a  problem  on  my  hands  this  time," 
she  decided.  "  That  girl  requires  careful  handling. 


SUNSET  MOUNTAIN  47 

What  a  strange  mixture  she  is — sharp  and  alert  as  a 
money-lender,  untrained  and  wild  as  the  animals  of  the 
plains,  devoted  anc}  tender  to  the  two  objects  of  her  affec- 
tion: her  father  and  her  dog.  There'll  be  trouble  if  I 
lead  her  unwisely,  she'll  be  all  that  is  lovely  and  lovable  if 
I  win  her  confidence  and  guide  her  skilfully." 

The  next  morning  when  Sarah  awoke  the  light  was 
streaming  through  her  open  window.  She  rubbed  her 
eyes  and  sat  up  in  bed. 

"  Huh,  I  ain't  dreamin'  after  all !  Gee,  things  is  white 
and  clean  round  this  joint!  A  fellow  got  to  be  afraid  to 
touch  things.  Looks  like  a  horspital  for  it's  cleaner  than 
any  house  I  ever  seen.  Wonder  what  kind  o'  joint  this 
is.  She  that  took  me  in  last  night  ain't  so  bad,  but  it  was 
no  use  tryin'  to  get  her  goat  for  she's  slick.  Guess  she 
knows  how  us  kids  act.  Good  thing  she  likes  dogs  and 
is  lettin'  me  keep  mine,  or  me  and  he'd  be  goin'  down  that 
hill.  Here,  who's  got  the  nerve  to  come  into  my  room  ?  " 
she  asked  crossly  as  the  door  opened  and  a  tall  girl  en- 
tered. 

"  You  be  careful  how  you  speak  to  me,"  the  intruder 
answered,  "  I'm  the  monitress." 

"  So,"  Sarah  said  mockingly,  "  the  monitress  ?  How 
did  you  get  that  way — born  one  ?  " 

"  Oh,  be  sensible,"  the  monitress  advised,  "  or  you'll  get 
into  trouble  first  thing  and  get  all  the  girls  down  on  you. 
I  came  to  tell  you  to  get  up  and  dress.  Here  are  your 
clothes.  You  want  to  hurry  now  for  we'll  form  line  in 
half  an  hour  and  go  down  to  prayers." 

"  Prayers  again  ?  I  said  some  last  night.  Is  this  a 
Sunday  school  ?  " 

"  No,  but  we  ain't  heathens  here.  We  have  prayers 
every  morning  and  evening." 


48          THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

"  Gee,  the  Lord's  kept  busy  here,  ain't  he  ?  " 

The  monitress  suddenly  burst  into  laughter  as  Sarah 
stepped  out  of  bed. 

"  What  you  laughin'  at?  "  demanded  the  little  girl. 

"  You !  Don't  you  know  how  to  wear  a  nightgown,  you 
goose  ?  " 

Sarah  faced  the  tall  girl  angrily.  "  Don't  you  call  me 
names !  "  she  cried,  "  I'll,  I'll " 

"  What  is  the  trouble  ?  "  came  the  calm  voice  of  Miss 
Hughes  as  she  entered  the  room  opportunely.  "  Lettie, 
what  is  wrong  ?  " 

"  I  laughed  at  the  way  she  put  on  her  gown,  Miss 
Hughes." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  matron  soothingly,  "  we  won't 
begin  the  day  like  this.  Lettie,  get  the  other  girls  ready. 
Sarah,  can  you  comb  your  hair  ?  " 

"  Sure  Mike,  but  mebbe  not  to  suit.  Say,  that  girl's 
too  darned  fresh!  She  laughed  at  me.  I  could  smash 
her  face ! " 

"  You  mustn't  be  too  quick  to  anger,  child.  There  are 
twenty-five  girls  here  with  you  and  you  must  learn  to  get 
along  with  them  without  quarreling." 

"  Yeh — where's  my  dog  ? "  she  asked  irrelevantly. 
"  May  I  see  him  now  and  play  with  him?  " 

"After  breakfast." 

Later  on,  when  the  new  girl  stood  in  line  with  the 
twenty-five  other  inmates,  she  divided  her  attention  be- 
tween her  new  blue  chambray  dress  and  the  many  other 
girls  dressed  in  similar  style.  Leaning  forward  she  whis- 
pered to  the  girl  next  in  line,  "  Say,  don't  youse  all  get 
mixed  up,  wearin'  the  same  kind  o'  dresses  ?  " 

The  other  girl  snickered  and  the  monitress  directed 
sternly,  "  Sarah,  no  talking  in  line." 


SUNSET  MOUNTAIN  49 

Sarah  turned  and  looked  at  the  monitress,  puckered  up 
her  face  disdainfully,  but  the  absolute  order  and  quiet  of 
the  others  restrained  her  from  retort.  She  marched  si- 
lently into  the  schoolroom,  sat  in  the  seat  assigned  to  her 
and  listened  to  the  prayers  and  hymns  of  the  girls. 

After  breakfast  the  girls  formed  into  line,  then,  at  a 
word  from  the  monitress,  disbanded  and  went  to  their 
respective  morning  tasks.  The  oldest  ones  hurried  to  the 
kitchen,  others  took  up  brooms  and  brushes  and  began  to 
clean  and  polish  the  wide  halls,  still  others  cleared  the 
tables  and  washed  the  dishes,  and  the  little  girls  started 
up  the  stairs  to  make  beds. 

"  What  shall  Sarah  do  ?  "  asked  Lettie  as  the  new  girl 
stood  in  the  hall  and  watched  the  others  depart. 

"  She  may  go  with  Helen,"  said  Miss  Hughes,  "  and 
learn  to  make  beds.  Sarah,  go  with  this  girl.  She  will 
teach  you  to  make  beds  properly.  Every  morning  you 
will  help  to  do  it  in  the  dormitory.  That  will  be  your 
share  of  work  for  the  present." 

But  Sarah  hung  back.  "  You  ain't  fair !  "  she  said  to 
Miss  Hughes.  "  You  said  I  dared  see  my  dog  after 
breakfast  and  now  you  ain't  lettin'  me.  Gee,  who  wants 
to  make  beds !  " 

"  Sarah,"  the  matron  answered  very  slowly,  "  you  will 
do  just  as  I  tell  you.  Every  girl  helps  with  the  work  of 
the  house  and  there  is  no  play  until  that  work  is  done. 
When  the  beds  are  made  you  may  see  your  dog  and  play 
with  him.  Now  go  with  Helen." 

Sarah,  unaccustomed  to  obey  commands  of  others  ex- 
cept in  school  and  then  in  a  desultory  manner,  stood  ir- 
resolute for  a  moment.  She  looked  up  at  Miss  Hughes, 
at  the  clear  blue  eyes  gazing  steadily  down  into  hers — she 
turned  and  without  a  word  started  up  the  stairs. 


50  THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

Ten  minutes  later  while  Helen  was  instructing  her  in 
the  mysteries  of  correct  bed-making,  Sarah  suddenly  re- 
pented her  yielding  to  the  matron's  command  and  burst 
out  with  a  vehement,  "  She's  a  liar,  that's  what ! " 

"  Who  ?  Who  are  you  talking  about  ?  "  asked  Helen 
and  several  other  little  girls  in  unison. 

"  Her,  that  lady  in  a  white  dress,"  elucidated  Sarah. 
"  She  said  I  could  go  to  my  dog  after  breakfast  and  now 
she  ain't  lettin'  me.  I  won't  make  no  beds !  " 

Her  burst  of  anger  was  cut  short  by  a  storm  from  the 
others.  "  Don't  you  dare  talk  like  that  about  Miss 
Hughes!  If  Lettie  hears  you  you'll  be  put  on  punish- 
ment. Why,  Miss  Hughes  is  dandy  to  us !  " 

"  You  bet,  she's  awful  nice !  "  said  another.  "  When  I 
came  here  I  was  bad  and  she  had  to  put  me  in  the  Medi- 
tation Room  and  when  Lettie  came  to  bring  me  my  sup- 
per I  threw  the  cup  at  her  and  almost  hit  her.  Then 
Miss  Hughes  came  up  and  she  wasn't  afraid,  not  even 
when  I  held  up  the  saucer  and  wanted  to  throw  it  at  her. 
I  don't  know  what  happened,  but  when  Miss  Hughes 
looked  at  me  the  saucer  just  got  heavy  and  all  of  a  sudden 
I  couldn't  throw  it.  I  was  ashamed  of  myself  and  I 
never  had  to  be  put  in  that  awful  room  again.  You 
don't  want  to  get  fresh  around  here  and  say  such  things 
about  Miss  Hughes  or  all  of  us  will  hate  you.  She  is  nice 
to  us,  but  if  you  get  too  bad  she  has  to  punish  you  on  the 
Homestead  and  if  you  get  awful  bad  she'll  put  you  in  that 
Meditation  Room." 

"What's  them?"  asked  Sarah,  her  aroused  curiosity 
superseding  for  the  time  her  sense  of  injury. 

"  Why,"  Helen  informed  her,  "  if  you  get  put  on  the 
Homestead  it  means  you  stand  in  the  hall  with  your  face 
turned  to  the  wall  and  you  stand  that  way  until  Miss 


SUNSET  MOUNTAIN  51 

Hughes  gives  you  permission  to  get  off,  sometimes  an 
hour,  sometimes  longer.  And  if  you're  getting  punished 
in  the  Meditation  Room — whew!  that's  awful!  On  the 
third  floor  is  a  little  room  with  just  one  window  and 
there's  a  bed,  chair  and  nothing  else  in  it.  You  get  put 
in,  the  door  is  locked  and  they  leave  you  alone  to  medi- 
tate. It's  spooky  quiet  there,  you  can't  even  hear  the 
other  girls,  and  it  makes  you  creep  and  wish  you'd  be- 
haved. See,  you  might  as  well  be  good,  for  you  don't 
gain  anything  by  being  bad." 

"  Humph,"  said  Sarah  slowly,  "  this  is  a  funny  place ! 
Don't  know  if  I  want  to  stay  or  not.  I  might  run  away." 

"  But  if  you  run  away,"  continued  Helen,  "  you'll  be 
caught  and  brought  back.  The  truant  officer  goes  after 
all  who  skiddo.  But  there  ain't  many  try  it,  for  we  like  it 
here  on  Sunset  Mountain.  Last  year  two  girls  got  smart 
and  tried  it,  climbed  on  the  coping  one  night  and  jumped 
off  the  porch  roof  and  ran  off.  The  next  day  the  officer 
brought  them  back.  So  you  see  the  best  thing  to  do  when 
you  get  put  here  is  to  behave  and  see  what  a  nice  time  you 
will  have.  Miss  Hughes  is  good  to  us.  There,"  she 
gave  a  pillow  a  pat,  "  the  last  bed  is  made.  You  remem- 
ber how  to  tuck  in  the  corners  ?  " 

"  Guess  so.     I'm  goin'  to  my  dog  now.'* 

"  Well,  so  you  can ;  your  work  is  done  for  a  while.  Let 
me  tell  you  don't  you  talk  so  about  Miss  Hughes  that 
Lettie  hears  you,  for  she  thinks  Miss  Hughes  is  the 
grandest  thing  that  ever  lived.  You  better  keep  on  the 
good  side  of  Lettie,  for  she's  the  monitress." 

"  Huh,  I  ain't  afraid  o'  Lettie !  Ain't  afraid  of  nobody 
nor  nothin'  but  snakes !  "  And  with  bearing  correspond- 
ing to  the  brave  avowal  Sarah  marched  down  the  stairs. 

When  the  children  reached  the  laundry  they  found 


52          THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

Miss  Hughes  stooping  over  the  dog.  It  responded  to  her 
petting  by  exaggerated  wagging  of  its  tail,  but  when 
Sarah  appeared  it  forgot  the  presence  of  all  others  and 
ran  to  her. 

"  You  dear  puppy,"  she  greeted  it,  "  are  you  glad  to 
see  me  ? " 

"  He  is,  Sarah,"  Miss  Hughes  told  her,  "  he  is  trying  to 
tell  you  that.  Take  him  out  on  the  grass  a  while.  The 
girls  will  show  you  what  a  beautiful  home  you  have  found 
— our  mountain,  the  loveliest  spot  in  New  Jersey." 

What  the  new  girl  saw  as  she  stood  with  the  little  girls 
near  the  reformatory  on  Sunset  Mountain  was  indeed,  as 
the  matron  described  it,  the  loveliest  spot  in  New  Jersey. 

The  building  stood  on  the  very  summit  of  the  highest 
point  in  that  county.  It  was  large  and  substantial,  with 
its  red  brick  front  relieved  and  beautified  by  a  great  pil- 
lared piazza.  But  the  spacious  building  sank  into  insig- 
nificance beside  the  beauty  and  magnificence  of  the  scene 
around  it. 

To  the  rear  of  the  house  were  fields  and  woods ;  to  the 
west  a  dusty  gray  road  went  twisting  past  peach  and 
apple  orchards,  narrowed  to  a  tiny  trail  through  the  heart 
of  a  dense  woodland,  and  emerged  at  last  at  the  edge  of  a 
broad  highway  leading  to  the  city.  Before  the  building 
was  a  wide,  sloping  field  where  daisies  and  buttercups 
grew  among  the  grasses.  This  field  merged  into  another 
one  dotted  with  scrubby  bushes  of  sassafras  and  huckle- 
berry, and  taller  growths  of  hawthorn  and  birch.  Be- 
yond this  field  lay  wooded  tracts,  hollows  and  hills,  and 
one  great  mountain  that  lifted  its  head  high  into  the  blue 
heavens.  A  little  south  of  the  house  was  a  narrow,  well- 
trodden  path  that  led  straight  from  the  gravel  walk  which 
was  around  the  building  and  down  through  the  flower- 


'SUNSET  MOUNTAIN  50 

dotted  field  into  a  dense  woods.  There  it  twisted  and 
turned  among  the  trees  and  underbrush  until,  by  a  great 
boulder  at  the  base  of  a  giant  oak,  it  lost  itself  in  the  wide 
dusty  road  that  wound  down  the  side  of  the  steep  moun- 
tain. To  right  and  left  the  mountain  road  turned  and 
twisted  until  it  reached  the  foot  of  the  hill  and  joined  the 
wide  straight  road  that  led  to  the  little  town  nestling  un- 
der the  shadow  of  Sunset  Mountain. 

To  the  northeast  of  this  mountain  was  spread  a  grand 
sweep  of  country.  One  turned  instinctively  from  the 
near  view  of  fields  and  woods,  however  beautiful,  and 
gazed  admiringly  at  the  panorama  that  spread  out  its 
glory  in  the  fertile  valley  beyond  the  mountain.  Like  a 
sharply  defined  etching  the  picture  held  a  constant  fasci- 
nation. Miles  of  green  country,  dotted  with  villages  and 
farms,  where  at  night  lights  gleamed  like  phosphorescent 
fireflies;  white  church  steeples  pointed  upward  among 
the  trees  and  roofs;  then,  farther  on,  blue  rolling  hills 
hemmed  in  the  fair  valley  and  two  rivers,  shimmering  in 
the  sunlight  like  silver  threads,  showed  in  a  gap  between 
two  mountain  ranges.  Sunset  Mountain,  where  the  wild 
wood  breath  sweeps  over  the  heights,  where  the  clouds 
hang  low  behind  the  stalwart  poplars,  where  Nature  is  at 
her  best  and  loveliest — Sarah  looked  at  her  new  home  and 
its  surroundings  and  drew  a  prolonged  breath  of  ecstasy. 
A  deep  appreciation  of  the  place  stirred  in  her  as  she 
stood  on  the  summit  that  first  morning. 

"  Gee,"  she  cried,  "  it's  bully  here !  Must  be  like  that 
heaven  I  fixed  for  the  Maloney  baby  and  after  I  made  it 
all  up  God  went  and  made  it  come  true.  Hope  I  ain't 
goin'  to  die — this  is  too  bully  to  last — guess  ma'll  be 
yellin'  soon  for  me  to  get  up  and  chase  myself  to  the  store 
or  some  place.  Say,  pinch  me." 


54          THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

The  girls  laughed.  "  It  is  real,  and  there's  lots  of  nice 
places  here  you  ain't  seen  yet." 

"  Well,  I  kinda  think  me  and  the  dog'll  stay  a  while. 
Looks  soft  to  me." 

"  What's  the  dog's  name  ?  "  asked  one. 

"  Ain't  named  him  yet." 

"  Call  him  Jack,"  suggested  one. 

"  Naw !  "  the  owner  of  the  animal  rejected  the  sugges- 
tion contemptuously.  "  That's  a  common  name.  I  want 
a  real  fine  word  for  that  there  dog,  for  he  ain't  no  com- 
mon trash." 

"  Urn,"  said  Helen,  "  if  I  had  a  dog  I'd  call  him  after 
some  one  I  liked." 

"  That's  the  ticket !  Ain't  nobody  I  like  but  me  pa,  so 
I  guess  I'll  call  him  Jerry." 

"  Oh,  let's  christen  him,"  suggested  one  of  the  girls. 

"What's  that?  Will  it  hurt  him?  I  ain't  havin' 
nothin'  hurt  that  there  dog." 

"  Aw,  christenin'  won't  hurt  him.  I  went  to  the  church 
when  my  little  sister  was  christened  and  they  just  put 
water  on  her  head  and  a  man  said  a  prayer  and  then  she 
was  named  and  nobody  can  ever  change  it." 

"All  right,"  agreed  Sarah,  "  I  think  it  would  be  good  to 
do  that  to  the  dog,  then  he'll  be  named  proper." 

Helen  ran  for  water  and  the  children  gathered  in  a 
circle  round  the  animal.  Sarah  dipped  her  fingers  in  the 
bowl,  sprayed  a  few  drops  on  the  head  of  the  patient  dog, 
then  said,  "  You're  Jerry,  that's  your  name." 

"  Oh,  say  a  prayer,  quick  before  the  water  dries  off," 
prompted  Helen. 

So,  while  the  dog  wriggled  about  in  wonder  his  little 
mistress  held  him  tightly  in  her  arms  and  prayed  hur- 
riedly, "  Dear  God,  I  want  my  dog  to  be  named  Jerry  like 


SUNSET  MOUNTAIN  55 

my  pa.  But  I  want  him  to  have  a  better  time  than  my  pa, 
for  he  got  pinched,  but  I  guess  you  know  about  it.  Please 
fix  it  so  that  me  pa  can  come  out  o'  jail  and  live  in  a  nice 
place  like  I  got  sent  to.  Pa  ain't  the  right  kind  o'  bad, 
not  like  some  of  the  men  in  Red  Rose  Court.  You  fixed 
the  heaven  for  the  Maloney  baby,  can't  you  fix  something 
good  for  my  pa — and  I  guess  that's  all." 

"  Amen,"  prompted  Helen. 

"Amen,"  said  Sarah  solemnly. 

"  That's  a  funny  prayer  for  a  christening,  but  I  guess 
it  don't  matter  long  as  it's  only  a  dog,"  was  the  comment 
of  one  of  the  girls. 

"  Sure  not,"  agreed  the  owner  of  the  animal.  "All 
that's  necessary  is  to  have  a  prayer,  don't  matter  what 
kind." 


CHAPTER  IV 

SARAH'S  LESSON 

Miss  HUGHES,  the  matron  of  the  cottage  on  Sunset 
Mountain,  was  Irish,  pure  and  unadulterated.  This  fact 
might  be  named  as  a  contributing  cause  for  her  big  heart. 
In  her  youth  she  had  taken  to  herself  two  motherless  chil- 
dren of  her  elder  brother, .  taught  them,  loved  them  and 
worked  for  them  until  they  were  grown  into  womanhood 
and  left  her  home  for  new  ones  of  their  own  making. 
Then  Miss  Hughes  found  herself,  a  woman  of  forty-five, 
with  strong  hands  and  a  courageous  heart,  eager  to  find 
some  niche  in  which  she  could  labor  for  the  good  of  hu- 
manity. She  found  that  niche  in  the  city  reformatory, 
and  a  big  place  it  was,  with  troubled  waters  about  it. 
But  the  dauntless  courage  that  had  lived  in  her  Irish 
peers,  Robert  Emmet,  Patrick  Henry  and  others  of  equal 
calibre,  lived  and  moved  in  her.  So  she  stepped  into  the 
place  with  high  hope  and  strong  faith. 

Before  she  went  to  take  charge  of  the  girls  on  Sunset 
Mountain  there  were  threats  of  riot  among  them.  Her 
predecessor,  loath  to  surrender  the  reins  of  government, 
had  planted  mutinous  seeds  in  the  fertile  hearts  of  the  in- 
corrigibles.  But  Miss  Hughes  entered  calmly,  took  hold 
of  the  sceptre  and  before  she  ruled  a  month  in  the  cottage 
on  the  mountain  every  girl  loved  her.  Little  girls  whom 
parents  and  teachers  considered  incorrigible,  tiny  waifs — 
their  parents  incarcerated  for  some  penal  transgression  of 
the  law — older  ones  who  had  fled  to  New  York  and  were 


SARAH'S  LESSON  57 

brought  to  the  mountain  with  sin  and  rebellion  in  their 
hearts  and  defiance  upon  their  faces — every  girl,  one  by 
one,  fell  under  the  beneficial  influence  of  the  new  matron. 
Which  does  not  mean  that  they  were  suddenly,  miracu- 
lously transformed  into  spotless  creatures,  for  the  ten- 
dencies of  years  are  seldom  turned  in  a  night,  the  sins  of 
long  indulgence  are  not  often  changed  at  first  attempts. 
But  it  does  mean  that  Miss  Hughes  was  gifted  with  that 
happy  faculty  of  finding  and  fostering  the  latent  best  in 
others  and  that  a  real  reformation  was  slowly  but  steadily 
taking  place  among  the  girls. 

Sarah,  too,  felt  an  irresistible  desire  to  please  the 
woman  who  had  taken  her  into  the  big  building  on  the 
mountain  and  been  so  kind  to  her.  The  white  dress  Miss 
Hughes  wore  while  on  duty  had  a  strange  attraction  for 
the  new  girl.  Just  to  get  near  it  and  look  at  its  snowy 
surface,  to  furtively  touch  the  starched  skirt  and  wonder 
how  on  earth  it  was  kept  so  white  for  so  long  a  time,  was 
a  satisfaction  to  the  child  of  Red  Rose  Court,  where  noth- 
ing was  ever  spotlessly  white  for  any  length  of  time. 
Under  the  influence  of  Miss  Hughes  the  activities  of  the 
new  girl  were  gradually  turned  into  proper  and  useful 
channels.  As  the  child  had  been  quick  to  imitate  and 
adopt  the  grotesque  slang  and  irreverent  expressions  of 
the  slums,  she  was  equally  eager  to  pattern  after  Miss 
Hughes  and  learn  new  expressions  and  use  less  offensive 
language.  The  strong,  inherent  tendency  of  childhood  to 
imitate  others  assisted  greatly  in  the  evolution  of  a  more 
obedient,  attractive  Sarah.  But  there  were  many  things 
which  perplexed  the  child  of  Red  Rose  Court.  If  she 
had  ever  had  a  mother's  training  the  uncertainties  of  her 
heart  might  have  dissolved  into  faith.  But  she  had  lost 
her  own  mother  in  babyhood  and  had  not  even  a  vague 


58          THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB? 

recollection  of  any  smiling  face  bending  over  her.  Then 
had  come  the  miserable  existence  of  Red  Rose  Court,  the 
absence  of  her  father  and  the  discovery  of  the  secret 
room  beyond  the  closet,  the  unhealthy  influence  of  the 
dull,  sordid  people  of  the  slums,  fortunately  leavened  by 
the  wise,  philosophical  sayings  of  Mrs.  Maloney.  Sarah 
had  learned  early  to  wrest  from  existence  the  slight 
crumbs  of  happiness.  Withered  flowers  from  ash-boxes 
of  the  more  fortunate,  bits  of  tawdry  finery  discarded  by 
them,  were  gathered  while  she  watched  cannily  for  the 
officers  of  the  law  who  were  so  eager  to  call  skiddp  to  the 
dirty,  ragged  child.  Her  thin  legs  learned  early  to  flee 
with  the  swiftness  of  Hermes  from  the  bluecoats,  and  her 
lips  curled  in  childhood  at  law,  order  and  its  agents. 

"  Why  do  you  call  this  a  reform' tory  ?  "  she  asked  Miss 
Hughes  one  day  soon  after  her  arrival. 

"  Reform  means  to  make  over,"  the  woman  informed 
her. 

"  Huh,  then  you  got  some  job  on  your  hands,  I'll  say ! 
I'd  begin,  if  I  was  you,  on  that  girl  with  the  crooked  nose 
and  that  one  that's  got  tombstones  for  teeth  in  her  trap. 
I  hope  when  you  make  me  over  you'll  cut  out  the  freckles 
and  give  me  golden  hair  like  a  fairy  and  make  me  blue 
eyes  like  a  doll." 

"  Child,"  Miss  Hughes  told  her  gently,  "  we  don't  try 
to  change  the  faces  of  the  girls,  just  the  hearts.  But  if 
your  heart  is  right  your  face  will  be  lovelier." 

"Hully  gee,"  cried  Sarah  gleefully,  "  then  some  guys 
got  awful  rotten  hearts  if  you  can  take  it  from  their 
faces !  Why,  there's  a  bad  man  in  Red  Rose  Court  most 
o'  the  kids'd  run  a  mile  from  when  he  was  drunk,  for  his 
face  looked  like  the  devil  had  got  inside  his  skin  sure.  It 
was  screwed  in  a  knot.  I  punched  him  in  the  jaw  once 


SARAH'S  LESSON  ^  59 

he  got  fresh  with  me,  then  I  run  and  he  was  too  drunk  to 
catch  me.  Mrs.  Maloney  used  to  say  he  had  a  face,  or  a 
mouth,  I  mean,  like  a  poor  man's  lease — from  'ear  to 
'ear." 

"  Sarah ! "  exclaimed  the  matron,  "  are  you  Irish  ?  " 
"  Sure  Mike ;  that  is  half  o'  me  is.  Me  father  ain't,  but 
even  if  he  wouldn't  tell  me  where  his  relations  are  and 
what  they  are,  I  know  he's  German — bad  luck  to  it,  I  hate 
them  Germans,  all  but  my  pa.  He's  one  o'  the  nice  kind. 
Mrs.  Maloney  says  it's  like  this  with  the  Irish:  there's 
dirty  Irish  and  there's  nice  Irish.  She  was  one  o'  the 
nice  kind  sure  as  guns !  But  she's  poor,  so  poor  she  got 
to  work  since  her  man  got  hurt  and  died  in  the  horspital. 
Guess  it's  a  good  thing  the  baby  died  'fore  I  come  away 
from  the  Court  for  I  took  care  of  it  when  she  went  to 
work.  She  cried  and  felt  bad  but  she  said  it  must  be  a 
blessing  after  all — guess  mebbe  that  there  God  she  talks 
about  ain't  such  a  chump  after  all.  He  took  her  baby  to 
heaven  'cause  I  was  comin'  here  and  He  give  me  a  dog 
that  I  could  bring  with  me  where  I  couldn't  brought  the 
baby.  But  just  the  same  it's  darned  hard  to  have  that 
poor  kid  sick  o'  the  heat  and  die  that  way.  Mrs.  Maloney, 
now,  she's  grand!  Always  laughin'  she  is  and  that  with 
all  her  trouble  and  bein'  so  poor.  She  says  such  funny 
things,  like,  'The  Lord  never  shuts  one  door  but  He  opens 
another.'  Guess  it's  the  luck  o'  the  Irish  to  be  laughin' 
when  they  ain't  got  two  cents  to  rub  together.  Mrs. 
Maloney  said  once  she  knows  who  God  likes  best,  that  He 
must  love  the  Irish  most  for  He  taught  them  how  to  laugh. 
Me,  I'm  half  Irish,  for  me  mother  was  that.  Pa  says  she 
was  happy  and  like  a  sunbeam  and  if  she  hadn't  died,  him 
and  me'd  be  a  lot  better  than  we  are.  But  when  I  get  out 
this  place  and  he  gets  out  o'  jail,  me  and  him's  goin'  to 


60.          THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB! T 

have  a  nice  house  some  place  and  I  bet  your  life  I'll  keep 
it  like  this  place.  I  never  knowed  a  house  can  be  so  clean, 
thought  just  horspitals  is  like  this.  'But,  gee,  mebbe  it 
ain't  swell  to  eat  off  clean  dishes  and  sleep  in  a  white  bed 
and  have  the  floors  so  that  you  could  eat  off  'em  in  a 
pinch!" 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  that '  Cleanliness  is  next  to  Godli- 
ness '?" 

"  Godliness — what's  that  ?  " 

"  Being  good." 

"  Huh,  next  to  it — it  beats  it  all  hollow  and  it's  a  darned 
sight  more  comfort'ble." 

The  days  passed  uneventfully  to  the  minds  of  the  other 
girls  on  Sunset  Mountain  but  to  Sarah  they  brought  an 
intoxicating  introduction  with  Nature.  For  the  first  time 
in  her  starved  life  the  child  of  Red  Rose  Court  roamed 
through  fields  and  woods  and  drank  deeply  of  pure  moun- 
tain air. 

Each  morning  during  the  summer  months  after  the 
allotted  tasks  were  done  Miss  Hughes  and  the  girls  went 
for  a  walk,  an  important  part  of  the  daily  routine  of  the 
reformatory  during  the  regime  of  Miss  Hughes. 

Sometimes  they  followed  the  road  that  wound  past  the 
orchards  and  entered  the  woods.  Then  the  girls,  tread- 
ing among  the  damp  mosses  or  stepping  from  rock  to 
rock,  searched  for  ferns  and  dug  them  from  the  black 
mold.  They  carried  them,  hardy  sword  fern  or  fragile 
maidenhair,  to  the  house  and  planted  them.  Sometimes 
they  crossed  the  grass  at  the  rear  of  the  house  and  wan- 
dered in  the  wide  field  of  waving  daisies  and  brown-eyed 
Susans  which  grew  so  tall  that  the  little  girls  waded 
waist-deep  through  the  white  and  yellow  sea  of  bloom. 
Then  the  girls  gathered  armfuls  of  the  blossoms  and 


SARAH'S  LESSON  61 

carried  them  to  the  wide  halls  and  rooms  of  the  build- 
ing. 

Sometimes  they  walked  through  the  grasses  and  wild 
flowers  near  the  front  piazza,  and  winding  their  way  in 
and  out  among  the  young  silver  birches,  came  to  a  field 
where  wild  strawberries  grew  in  abundance,  and  later  in 
the  summer  huckleberries  and  blackberries  waited  to  be 
picked. 

Sometimes  they  chose  the  gray  road  from  which  they 
looked  away  over  the  valley.  But  they  never  stood  quiet 
for  any  length  of  time  to  look  over  the  familiar  pano- 
rama, but  went  lightly  down  the  road  that  wound  around 
the  great  hill  until  it  reached  the  foot  where  the  boys' 
quarters  were.  Then  it  went  on  evenly  past  houses  and 
bungalows  to  a  busy,  noisy  street  where  cars  and  wagons 
rumbled  in  great  contrast  to  the  peaceful  quiet  of  the 
mountain.  However,  the  girls  seldom  went  out  to  that 
dusty  highway  except  upon  the  Sabbath.  Then  they 
walked  down  the  hill,  sat  decorously  during  the  service  of 
worship  in  a  little  brown  chapel  that  faced  the  busy  street, 
and  at  noon  returned  once  more  to  the  summit  of  the 
mountain. 

Rude  log  steps  were  fitted  into  the  steep  mountainside 
and  to  these  Miss  Hughes  frequently  brought  the  girls  to 
gather  the  wild  flowers  that  grew  in  abundance  on  either 
side  of  them.  The  whole  mountainside  was  a  treasure 
trove :  trees,  centuries  old — oak,  poplar,  birch,  walnut  and 
chestnut — grew  so  closely  that  their  branches  were  inter- 
woven. They  formed  ideal  nesting-places  for  the  my- 
riads of  birds  who  loved  that  secluded  woodland.  The 
girls,  guided  by  Miss  Hughes,  became  observant  and 
gradually  learned  to  differentiate  between  the  feathered 
neighbors,  their  names,  habits,  songs  and  nesting-places. 


62  THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

The  flowers  that  grew  on  that  mountainside !  One  por- 
tion of  the  hill  was  a  home  of  a  flaming  host  of  speckled 
lilies.  A  huge  boulder  partially  imbedded  in  the  woods 
bore  upon  its  top  a  great  clump  of  wild  columbine. 
Along  the  edges  of  the  wood  pink  clover  stored  its  nectar 
for  the  bees,  and  wild  roses  and  violets  bloomed  in  their 
seasons.  Goldenrod  and  asters  made  royal  robes  of  lav- 
ish beauty  for  the  autumn  coronation  of  the  woods  and  a 
hundred  less  conspicuous  yet  not  less  lovely  blossoms 
embroidered  each  nook  and  open  road  on  Sunset  Moun- 
tain. 

So,  each  day,  whether  they  followed  the  road  to  wood 
or  field,  the  girls  of  the  reformatory  drew  closer  to  the 
bosom  of  Mother  Nature,  the  little  group  of  unfortunate 
children  learned  invaluable  lessons  from  God's  bright 
mountain  top.  And  always  the  center  of  the  group,  the 
controlling,  guiding  spirit,  was  Miss  Hughes.  Smiling, 
cheering,  loving,  encouraging,  helping;  her  heart  filled 
and  overflowing  with  real  kindness  and  patience ;  her  life 
an  unceasing  fountain  of  gladness,  courage  and  inspira- 
tion— she  was  able,  as  few  others  would  have  been  in  her 
place,  to  win  from  each  girl  the  good  that  lay  dormant,  to 
teach  the  wayward  ones  to  pick  up  the  tangled  skeins  and 
begin  new  patterns. 

Sarah's  initiation  into  the  mysteries  of  the  fields  and 
woods  was  an  hour  of  keen,  intense  joy.  With  Jerry 
frisking  at  her  side  she  followed  the  girls  and  Miss 
Hughes  down  the  mountainside  on  her  first  walk. 

"  Oh,  look !  "  she  cried.     "  What  park  is  that  ?  " 

"  Park ! "  echoed  the  girls  with  laughter.  "  This  be- 
longs to  the  city  and  is  for  us  to  enjoy." 

"  Gee,  hully  gee '  She  became  speechless  with 

wonder,  but  the  phenomenal  condition  did  not  endure 


SARAH'S  LESSON  63 

long.  Her  attention  was  attracted  by  a  splotch  of  vivid 
red.  "  Look,"  she  pointed  to  a  bush  growing  on  the  side 
of  the  hill,  "  there's  a  red  ribbon  hangin'  on  that  little 
tree.  Guess  one  of  youse  kids  musta  lost  it." 

The  girls  laughed  as  they  drew  nearer  to  the  red  object 
and  it  suddenly  rose  and  flew  away. 

"  A  bird !  "  Sarah  gasped.     "  A  red  bird ! " 

"  That's  a  scarlet  tanager.  Miss  Hughes  told  us  all 
about  it,"  one  of  the  girls  informed  the  newcomer. 
"  That's  the  father  bird  and  the  mother  bird  is  green,  so 
that  when  she  sits  on  the  nest  bad  boys  can't  see  her  and 
shoot." 

"  Humph,"  said  Sarah  thoughtfully,  "  God's  good  to 
birds,  ain't  He,  most  gooder'n  to  people  ?  " 

The  next  day  she  confided  to  Jerry,  "  Say,  I  learned 
something  yesterday  you  gotta  know,  'cause  I  tell  you 
everything  I  learn  so  you  can  grow  in  that  fine  dog  like 
people  say  you  are.  I  learned  that  God's  good  to  birds. 
Miss  Hughes  says  I  have  to  learn  to  be  fine  so  I'll  match 
you,  that  I  can't  learn  you  nothin'  I  don't  know  myself, 
and  I  guess  that's  about  right.  You  must  learn  to  be 
kind  and  obedient.  I  learned  from  Miss  Hughes  that  it 
ain't  smart  to  do  mean  things  to  people,  that's  cowardly. 
She  says,  too,  it  ain't  nice  to  say  things  I  used  to  say  all 
the  time  in  Red  Rose  Court.  My,  that  must  be  a  dread- 
ful place!  We  got  to  stop  sayin'  devil.  Miss  Hughes 
says  nice,  refined  people  don't  say  it — bet  your  buttons 
they  think  it  sometimes,  though,  don't  you?  But  mind 
you,  Jerry,  if  I  forget  and  say  them  bad  words  don't  you 
dare  wag  your  tail  at  me  and  laugh  like  it  was  funny, 
don't  you  dare !  We  got  to  stop  bein'  that  way  and  act 
like  ladies,  you  and  me.  We  like  it  pretty  good  here,  don't 
we?  Ain't  you  glad  now  that  bad  boy  hurt  you  and  I 


64          THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

took  you  from  him  and  brought  you  here  ?  I  knew  you 
was !  We  like  it  here  and  we  like  the  dresses  and  things 
to  eat  and  the  walks  and  the  people,  all  but  Lettie.  We 
don't  like  her  none,  do  we?  She's  too  fresh  and  bossy 
and  she  laughed  at  me  once." 

It  was  true,  Sarah  persistently  refused  to  be  friendly 
with  the  monitress.  The  bright  sayings  of  the  new  girl, 
the  fact  that  Jerry  was  hers,  and  the  magnetism  of  her 
personality,  won  for  her  the  warm  admiration  and  affec- 
tion of  the  girls.  But  there  existed  a  subdued  hostility 
between  Sarah  and  Lettie,  due  to  the  impulsive  prejudice 
of  the  former  when  the  older  girl  had  ridiculed  her. 
Sarah  had  a  tantalizing  way  of  uplifting  her  thin,  pointed 
chin  and  pug  nose  perceptibly  higher  when  she  met  Let- 
tie,  but  the  older  girl  took  no  apparent  notice  of  the  dis- 
like, though  she  sometimes  commented  to  herself,  "  Dis- 
agreeable, hateful  brat !  I'd  like  to  shake  her !  " 

One  day  the  smouldering  hate  in  the  heart  of  Sarah 
leaped  into  active  blaze.  Miss  Hughes,  called  to  the  city 
upon  urgent  business,  gathered  the  girls  together  and  told 
them  she  trusted  every  one  to  obey  Lettie  during  the  time 
they  were  without  a  matron. 

"  We'll  be  good,  Miss  Hughes,"  they  promised  her  ; 
"  we  won't  give  Lettie  a  bit  of  trouble." 

"  I'm  sure  you  will  do  as  she  tells  you,  girls.  Lettie 
and  Miss  Mary  will  manage  things  until  I  come  back. 
Good-bye,  girls." 

"  Good-bye,  Miss  Hughes,"  they  called  after  her  as 
she  went  down  the  hill.  "  Don't  forget  to  come  back  to 
us." 

The  older  girls  returned  to  the  kitchen  where  Miss 
Mary,  housekeeper  and  teacher  of  cooking,  was  directing 
the  making  of  savory  preserves;  the  little  girls  gathered 


SARAH'S  LESSON  65 

to  play  under  the  sheltering  branches  of  an  apple  tree 
quite  close  to  the  house. 

"  Did  any  of  you  girls  ever  run  away  ?  "  Sarah  asked 
suddenly  as  they  played  with  their  dolls. 

"  No,  oh,  no !  "  chorused  the  girls.  "  We  don't  want 
to  run  away.  We  like  it  here.  Why  did  you  ask  that  ?  " 

"  I  just  wondered  if  any  one  ever  had  the  spunk  to  do 
it" 

"  Oh,  if  one  of  us  ran  away  now  when  Miss  Hughes 
is  out  and  Lettie  has  charge  of  us  wouldn't  Lettie  be 
sore !  Here  she  comes  now.  Lettie,  would  you  be  mad  if 
one  of  us  would  run  away  for  you  ? " 

"  Run  away  ?  "  echoed  the  monitress.  "  You're  all 
afraid  to  do  that.  Go  on,  play  with  your  dolls." 

"  Yes,  that's  more  fun,"  said  Helen. 

A  little  later  Sarah  suggested,  "Let's  play  hide-and- 
go-seek.  I'm  tired  of  dolls." 

"  Who'll  be  it  ? "  The  children  danced  about  on  the 
grass.  "  I'll  count  out  and  see,"  said  Helen.  "  '  My 
mother  told  me  to  take  this  one.  One,  two,  three,  out 
goes  she.'  There,  you're  it ! "  she  pointed  triumphantly 
to  one  of  the  smaller  children.  "  You  hold  the  dog 
while  you  hide  your  face  and  count  or  he'll  run  after 
us  and  give  us  away.  Now  no  fair  peeping !  " 

"  All  right.  I'll  count  fifty.  Remember,  no  going  in 

the  house!  Go  on "  she  hid  her  face  and  began  to 

count  and  the  little  girls  scampered  in  all  directions. 

As  she  cried,  "  Fifty ! "  she  put  Jerry  down.  He 
started  off  briskly  on  the  road  that  led  past  the  orchards 
and  through  the  woods. 

"  Here,  Jerry,"  she  called,  "  no  one  is  down  there. 
Come  back !  "  But  he  ran  off  unheedingly. 

In  a  short  time  all  except  Sarah  were  found. 


66  THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

"  I  can't  find  Sarah,"  the  girl  pouted.  "  I  looked  every- 
where for  her.  Did  any  of  you  see  where  she  went?  " 

"  No,"  each  protested. 

"  Well,  Jerry  went  down  that  way,"  she  pointed  to  the 
gray  road.  "  I  called  him  but  he  wouldn't  come 
back " 

"  Look  there !  "  cried  Helen  excitedly.  "  There  she 
goes ! " 

A  break  in  the  trees  showed  for  an  instant  the  fleeing 
figure  of  a  child  in  a  blue  chambray  dress. 

"  She's  running  away !  "  cried  the  children.  "  Call 
Lettie  and  we'll  go  after  her !  " 

In  a  moment  the  place  was  buzzing  with  excitement. 
Miss  Mary,  her  sleeves  rolled  up  to  her  elbows,  a  worried 
expression  on  her  fine,  patient  face,  stood  in  the  doorway 
and  watched  the  pursuers  start  after  the  runaway.  "  It's 
just  too  bad  this  had  to  happen  when  Miss  Hughes  is 
away,"  she  murmured. 

Clouds  of  dust  rose  from  the  road  as  Lettie  and  a 
number  of  other  girls  ran  after  Sarah.  For  a  quarter 
mile  they  ran,  pausing  sometimes  to  regain  breath  and 
gather  fresh  impetus.  But,  as  the  road  was  full  of 
curves,  they  caught  never  a  glimpse  of  the  runaway. 

"  Perhaps  she  stopped  and  went  in  the  woods,"  sug- 
gested one  of  the  girls. 

"  No,"  was  Lettie's  opinion,  "  I  believe  she  went  on  to 
the  pike.  We  better  go  straight  ahead." 

Finally  they  reached  the  end  of  the  road  through  the 
woods  and  came  to  the  broad  highway.  There,  standing 
pantingly  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  was  Sarah. 

When  she  saw  the  excited  crowd  of  girls  running  to- 
ward her  she  advanced  to  meet  them.  Her  hair  hung  in 
great  disorder,  her  face  glowed  scarlet  through  the 


SARAH'S  LESSON  67 

freckles,  and  there  hovered  a  sarcastic  little  smile  in  her 
eyes  and  a  twitching  crooked  smile  about  her  mouth  that 
stirred  wrath  in  the  heart  of  Lettie.  When  Sarah  spoke 
she  added  new  fuel  to  that  wrath: 

"  'Lo,  Lettie,  are  you  lookin'  for  me  ?  My,  you  sure 
must  like  me  if  you  run  like  that  to  catch  me  on  a  day 
like  this !  It's  some  hot  to  run,  ain't  it?  " 

"You  bad  little  thing!"  Lettie  retorted.  "You 
need  a  capital  spanking!  I  have  a  notion  to  give  it  to 
you." 

"  Go  ahead,"  said  the  culprit  calmly.  "  I  ain't  afraid 
of  you.  I  ain't  afraid  of  nobody  nor  nothin'  but  snakes," 
she  added  with  an  impish  grin. 

"  Wish  I  had  a  few  wriggly  ones  to  scare  you  half  to 
death,"  said  the  monitress  as  she  wiped  the  perspiration 
from  her  face.  "  Where's  Jerry  ?  What  did  you  do  with 
him?" 

"  Me  ?  "  Sarah  cried  in  quick  alarm.  "  I  don't  have 
him!" 

"  He  followed  you,"  said  one  of  the  girls.  "  He  ran 
this  way  and  wouldn't  come  back  when  we  called  him. 
Now  he's  lost." 

"  He's  lost,"  repeated  Lettie  firmly,  "  and  it  serves  you 
just  good  and  right,  Sarah  Burkhart!  I  hope  he  never 
comes  back  to  you!  I  guess  he  ran  after  you  and 
couldn't  find  you  and  now  he's  lost  in  the  woods  and 
you'll  never  see  him  again.  If  some  of  those  people  who 
live  down  here  get  a  hold  of  him  they'll  chain  him 
and  keep  him.  See  what  you  get  for  being  fresh  and 
making  us  all  this  trouble!  He's  too  little  to  find  the 
way  home  alone.  Serves  you  right,  Sarah  Burkhart ! " 

Sarah's  face  paled.  "  I'm  goin'  to  find  him !  "  she  said 
tremblingly,  all  her  bravado  crumbled  at  the  loss  of  her 


68          THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB" 

pet.    She  turned  to  the  woods  and  called  loudly,  " 
Jerry!" 

The  other  girls  stood,  eagerly  listening,  but  no  answer 
came  to  the  child's  distressed  cry. 

"  I  got  to  find  him  " — her  voice  quavered — "  I  can't  let 
him  be  lost." 

She  brushed  her  way  through  the  tangled  bushes  and 
weeds  and  entered  the  dense  woods. 

"  Come  back,"  ordered  Lettie.  "  You'll  get  lost  too  in 
that  woods." 

Sarah  paid  no  heed  to  Lettie  and  the  latter  repeated 
her  command. 

"  I  don't  care  if  I  do  get  lost  if  he's  lost,"  the  child 
said  defiantly,  "  and  I  won't  come  out  till  I  find  my  dog ! 
I  want  my  dog ! "  She  shook  her  head  determinedly  and 
went  farther  into  the  woods. 

Lettie  whispered  to  the  girls  as  a  sudden  thought  came 
to  her,  "  Let  her  go  a  while.  I'll  get  her  out — watch  her 
jump ! " 

"  Here,  Jerry,  Jerry,"  the  little  mistress  called  tear- 
fully, 

"  Oh,"  cried  Lettie,  "  a  snake !  " 

Sarah  screamed  in  terror  and  stood  as  though  petri- 
fied. "Where?  "she  cried. 

"  Coming  toward  you  from  the  back !  " 

With  another  scream  the  girl  rushed  through  the 
bushes  and  stood  panting  in  the  road.  Then  the  girls 
burst  into  hearty  laughter.  Sarah  looked  at  them  in  be- 
wilderment a  moment  until  she  guessed  the  cause  of  their 
merriment. 

"  You  lied ! "  she  hurled  the  words  fiercely  at  Lettie. 
"  You  Hed  to  me !  " 

A  wave  of  hot  anger  flooded  over  her.     In  a  second 


SARAH'S  LESSON  69 

she  stooped,  picked  up  a  stone  and  aimed  it  at  Lettie. 
Simultaneously  with  the  uplifting  of  her  small  hand  there 
was  a  stir  in  the  bushes  upon  the  opposite  side  of  the 
road.  Lettie,  seeing  the  anger  in  the  child's  face,  dodged 
quickly  to  one  side  and  the  missile  intended  for  her  struck 
Jerry  as  he  came  leaping  through  the  bushes  to  Sarah. 
The  jagged  stone  struck  his  paw  and  he  gave  one  yelp  of 
pain,  rolled  over  on  his  side  and  extended  his  bleeding 
paw  to  his  mistress. 

Sarah  stooped  over  him,  gazed  into  his  piteous  eyes 
and  cried,  "  My  doggie,  my  doggie,  did  I  kill  him  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  hurt  him !  "  the  girls  cried  in  resentment  and 
pity.  "  You  hurt  him !  " 

But  Sarah  did  not  answer.  Tears  streamed  from  her 
eyes  as  she  spoke  to  the  dog.  "  Oh,  Jerry,  don't  die ! 
You  come  to  me  in  the  place  of  the  Maloney  baby,  now 
don't  go  off  to  heaven  like  it  did !  I  didn't  mean  to  hurt 
you,  honest,  cross  my  heart,  I  didn't!  Don't  die,  don't 
you  die ! " 

She  picked  him  up,  regardless  of  the  blood  that 
streamed  from  his  paw  and  stained  her  blue  chambray 
dress. 

"  Quit  your  crying,"  said  Lettie  in  a  tone  of  authority, 
yet  a  bit  tender  considering  the  passage  of  angry  words 
that  had  so  recently  taken  place.  "  Come  on  home.  I'll 
fix  him." 

"  Can  you  fix  him  so  he  won't  die  for  me  ?  "  Sarah 
turned  a  blotched,  smeared  face  to  her  erstwhile  enemy. 
"If  you  can  make  him  well,  Lettie,  I'll  like  you  most  as 
much  as  I  like  him."  She  looked  appealingly  at  the  older 

girl. 

"  Ah,  he  won't  die.  He's  just  cut  a  little.  We  can 
fix  it." 


70          THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURS 

The  little  procession  went  home  silently.  When  they 
reached  the  shade  of  the  apple  tree  Lettie  said,  "  You  sit 
on  the  grass  here  and  I'll  get  some  water  and  a  cloth." 

The  other  girls  crowded  near  but  Lettie  ordered  them 
to  stand  back  as  she  came  bringing  water  and  bandage. 
She  bathed  the  wounded  paw  and  wrapped  it  in  the 
white  cloth,  while  Sarah  watched,  all  the  remorse,  solici- 
tude and  gratitude  of  her  heart  written  on  her  face. 
When  the  dressing  was  completed  the  mistress  of  the 
wounded  animal  looked  into  the  face  of  the  Good 
Samaritan  and  said,  "  Lettie,  I  ain't  ever  liked  you  since 
I  come  here  because  you  laughed  at  me  for  wearin'  my 
nightgown  hind-side-before  and  callin'  me  a  goose.  But 
now  you  fixed  Jerry  so  he  don't  die  on  me  and  I'm 
likin'  you  a  whole  lot." 

The  apology,  crude  yet  sincere,  touched  the  older  girl 
and  she  replied,  "  I  won't  laugh  at  you  any  more.  I'm 
sorry  about  the  dog  but  I  know  he'll  soon  be  same  as 
ever.  I'll  tell  Miss  Hughes  it  was  my  fault  for  I  fooled 
you  about  the  snake.  Now  go  change  your  dress  and 
bring  this  one  down  and  I'll  wash  the  blood  out  of  it." 

The  hot  afternoon  was  merging,  on  Sunset  Mountain, 
into  a  pleasantly  cool  evening  when  Miss  Hughes  re- 
turned from  the  city.  The  blazing  sun  that  all  day  had 
scorched  and  burned  with  intense,  relentless  heat,  had 
disappeared  behind  the  great  wooded  hill  in  the  west. 
In  its  track  the  painted  glory  of  sunset  was  diffusing  its 
colors  through  the  sky.  It  flamed  first  in  crimson  and 
orange,  then  softened  into  amber  and  yellow  and,  even 
as  the  children  on  the  wide  piazza  watched  it  with  eager 
interest,  the  colors  changed.  Deeper  shadows  rested 
upon  the  distant  hills,  the  western  expanse  of  sky  dulled 
into  violet  and  faint  rose,  and  finally  the  last  tinge  of 


SARAH'S  LESSON  71' 

glory  faded  and  the  deep  blue  of  early  evening  hung 
above  the  mountain. 

As  the  last  brightness  died  a  sudden  call  echoed  from 
the  path  that  led  to  the  mountain.  "  Oo-oo,"  came  Miss 
Hughes'  call. 

"  Oo-oo,"  the  girls  answered  and  ran  to  meet  her. 

Sarah  hung  back.  She  stood  by  one  of  the  pillars  of 
the  porch,  while  Jerry,  wagging  his  tail,  looked  question- 
ingly  up  at  her  and  urged  her  to  follow  the  girls. 

"  You  go,  Jerry.  But  I  was  so  bad  to-day  that  I'm 
ashamed  to."  But  the  dog  stood  faithfully  by  his  mis- 
tress while  the  other  girls  ran  gaily  down  the  path.  As 
the  matron,  surrounded  by  the  eager,  chattering  girls, 
came  up  the  grassy  slope,  she  looked  in  surprise  at  the 
lone  figure  leaning  against  the  pillar. 

"  All  alone,  Sarah  ? "  she  asked  pleasantly.  Then,  as 
she  noted  the  flash  of  white  bandage  on  the  dog's  paw, 
she  said,  "  What  happened  to  Jerry  ?  " 

"  Sarah  hurt  him !  "  cried  one  girl,  anxious  to  impart 
the  news  to  Miss  Hughes,  in  spite  of  Lettie's  warning  to 
keep  silent. 

Sarah  hung  her  head  and  turned  away  a  moment,  then 
she  raised  it  bravely  and  said,  "  You  know  I  didn't  mean 
to  hurt  him!  " 

The  accent  upon  the  last  word  conveyed  to  Miss 
Hughes  an  inkling  of  what  had  happened.  "  We'll  let 
Sarah  tell  me,"  she  said.  "  You  girls  stay  on  the  porch 
a  while  and  Sarah  will  come  inside  with  me." 

When  the  two  entered  the  cool  sitting-room  Miss 
Hughes  removed  her  hat  and  gloves  and  drew  a  chair  to 
the  open  window  through  whose  wide-flung  curtains  the 
deepening  twilight  entered. 

"Come  here,  Sarah "  the  woman  put  out  a  hand 


72  THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

to  draw  the  child  closer,  so  that  the  little  hands  of  the 
girl  rested  upon  the  broad  knees  of  the  matron. 

Then  Miss  Hughes  looked  searchingly  into  the  face 
of  the  child.  "  What  is  wrong  ?  Tell  me  about  it,"  she 
invited  gently. 

"  I'm  wrong — I'm  so  darned  rotten  bad  that  I  guess  I 
ain't  ever  goin'  to  learn  to  act  like  a  lady.  I'm  ashamed 
— I  was  bad  when  you  went  off  and  after  I  promised 
you  to  behave.  But  I  saw  a  chance  to  get  even  with 
Lettie  for  her  laughin'  at  me  when  I  first  come  and 
callin'  me  a  goose  that  I  clean  forgot  all  about  what  I 
promised  you.  I  ran  away  just  to  spite  her." 

"  Where  were  you  going  ?  " 

"  Nowheres.  I  got  no  place  to  go  to.  I  was  goin'  to 
walk  around  that  road  a  while  and  then  come  back,  but 
the  girls  saw  me  and  came  after  me  and  then  I  threw  a 
stone  at  Lettie  and  it  hit  poor  Jerry  and  like  to  killed 
.him.  Guess  if  Lettie  hadn't  fixed  it  and  made  it  stop 
bleedin'  mebbe  he  mighta  died  on  me." 

"  Well,"  came  Miss  Hughes'  slow  query,  "  did  your 
running  away  to  tease  Lettie  make  you  happier  ?  " 

"  No.  I — it  hurts  me  in  here  " — she  put  a  hand  to 
her  thin  throat — "  I  never  felt  like  this  in  here  before. 
Guess  it's  because  I  remember  now  when  it's  too  late  to 
do  me  any  good  what  you  told  me  about  gettin'  cross  and 
wantin'  to  fight.  I  used  to  think  in  Red  Rose  Court  that 
the  best  fighter  was  the  bravest  person,  but  you  say  it's 
not  always  brave  to  fight." 

"  No,  child,  sometimes  it's  cowardly.  The  brave  peo- 
ple are  the  ones  who  can  control  their  tempers  and  not 
have  to  get  what  they  want  by  using  their  fists.  You 
forgot  that  when  you  ran  away  to  tease  Lettie  you  were 
grieving  me,  did  you  ?  " 


SARAH'S  LESSON  73 

"  No,  I  didn't  think  of  that  nor  nothin'  else.  I  just 
got  hot  inside  o'  me.  Guess  I'm  awful  bad." 

"  No,  Sarah,  you  are  not  bad.  You  have  been  dis- 
obedient and  allowed  your  hasty  temper  to  rule  you  for 
a  time,  but  I  am  sure  you  have  learned  a  good  lesson  to- 
day. You  see  how  your  anger  and  foolish  prejudice 
against  Lettie  have  made  you  hurt  the  very  one  you  would 
not  wish  to  harm — poor  Jerry.  We  usually  do  something 
like  that  when  we  allow  anger  and  evil  passions  to  rule 
us;  we  very  often  bring  suffering  to  the  ones  we  love 
most.  I  want  you  to  grow  into  a  noble  woman ' 

"  Like  my  real  ma  was,"  came  the  eager  words.  "  My 
pa  often  told  me  she  was  the  grandest  lady  ever  lived. 
She  was  Irish  and  an  actress  and  I'd  like  to  be  just  like 
her  so  that  when  he  comes  out  he'll  be  surprised." 

A  strange  yearning  for  the  little  motherless  girl  took 
possession  of  Miss  Hughes;  she  put  her  arm  about  the 
child. 

Sarah  looked  up  in  surprise,  then  made  a  little  loving 
gesture  with  her  head.  "  You're  nice  to  me  and  I  like 
you,"  she  said  with  the  frankness  of  childhood.  "  I  like 
when  you  hold  me  like  that,  for  nobody  never  done  it 
to  me  before,  not  that  I  can  remember.  Bet  my  mother 
used  to  love  and  kiss  me  but  I  was  so  little  I  forget  it. 
I'm  goin'  to  be  good  for  you,  honest  I  am,  cross  my 
heart!" 

"  I  hope  so,  Sarah ;  in  fact,  I  know  so." 

"  What  made  that  funny  hurt  in  my  neck  when  I  was 
bad?" 

"  Your  conscience." 

"  Oh,  that's  what  pa's  got !  Ma  said  he  had  and  that's 
why  he  wanted  to  stop  makin'  bad  money  and  get  away 
to  the  country  where  he  could  live  right.  If  only  he'd 


74  THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

had  his  conscience  hurt  him  a  little  sooner  then  mebbe 
we'd  gotten  off  safe.  Gee,  that  there  conscience  hurts 
worse  than  bein'  licked !  Does  it  ever  hurt  when  you're 
good?" 

"  No,  it  worries  us  only  when  we  do  wrong." 

"  Then  I'll  do  my  darndest  to  keep  out  o'  bad  things 
for  I  don't  ever  want  that  hurt  in  my  neck." 

When  Sarah  and  Miss  Hughes  returned  to  the  girls 
on  the  wide  porch  the  twilight  had  deepened  into  dark- 
ness. The  matron  at  once  became  the  center  of  a  happy 
crowd.  The  girls  sat  at  her  feet  and  on  chairs  close  to 
her  side. 

"  Lots  of  stars,  Miss  Hughes,"  remarked  one.  "  Oh," 
cried  another,  "  we  had  a  pretty  sunset !  Did  you  see 
it?" 

"  I  caught  glimpses  of  it  from  the  car  window  but  I 
know  it  must  have  been  gorgeous  on  Sunset  Mountain 
for  here  we  have  the  big  sweep  of  sky." 

"  This  is  some  dandy  place.  I'd  like  to  stay  here  al- 
ways," was  the  hearty  expression  of  one  little  child. 

"  Me  too,"  said  Sarah.  "  I'd  like  to  stay  here  till  my 
pa  comes  out  and  takes  me  with  him." 

The  girls  rejoiced  in  that  remark,  for  by  it  they  knew 
that  peace  reigned  in  their  little  kingdom. 

Evening  on  Sunset  Mountain  was  worthy  of  the  rhap- 
sodies of  the  girls  and  Miss  Hughes.  Among  the  clumps 
of  birches  fireflies  flashed  spurts  of  light;  on  the  grasses 
near  the  porch  glowworms  gleamed  as  though  the  stars 
reflected  in  their  bosoms;  far  away,  in  the  valley,  lights 
twinkled  in  cottage  and  mansion;  in  the  dim  distance, 
beyond  the  silvered  rivers,  shone  the  lights  of  New  York 
City;  and  above  it  all  hung  a  radiant  moon  and  the 
countless  stars  of  a  summer  night. 


SARAH'S  LESSON  75 

The  influence  of  the  night  radiance  crept  into  the  hearts 
of  the  girls,  till  they  sang  their  favorite  songs  so  softly 
that  the  sleeping  woodland  creatures  scarcely  awoke. 
Finally  one  of  the  girls  pleaded,  "  Sing  to  us,  Miss 
Hughes." 

Others  took  up  the  request.  "  Oh,  yes,  something  nice 
and  lively,  please  do ! "  they  clamored  until  Miss  Hughes 
held  up  her  hands  in  surrender. 

"  I'll  sing,"  she  promised  and  the  next  moment  burst 
into  the  rippling  "  Killarney." 

"  There,"  she  laughed  when  the  song  was  done,  "  was 
that  lively  enough  ?  " 

"  I  can  dance  to  that,"  said  Sarah. 

"  Oh,  do  it,  Sarah !  May  she,  Miss  Hughes  ?  "  cried 
the  girls. 

"  Yes,  go  ahead,  Sarah,"  agreed  the  matron. 

Sarah  withdrew  to  one  end  of  the  long  porch.  Then 
as  Miss  Hughes  repeated  the  song  the  child  danced.  It 
was  an  original,  elf-like  dance,  like  the  frolic  of  the 
Irish  Little  Folk.  Every  movement  of  the  slight  figure 
was  the  epitome  of  grace;  she  bent  and  swayed  with  the 
noiseless  ease  of  a  butterfly. 

As  the  dance  ended  the  girls  clapped  their  hands  in 
hearty  applause. 

"  Where  did  you  learn  that  ?  "  asked  Miss  Hughes. 

"  From  myself,"  was  the  grave  reply.  "  In  summer 
lots  o'  hurdy-gurdys  come  to  the  street  outside  Red  Rose 
Court  and  we  used  to  dance  round  in  the  Court  and  have 
more  fun'n  you  could  shake  a  stick  at.  I  learned  myself 
to  dance  to  most  any  tune  that  I  heard.  I  just  make 
believe  I'm  what  the  music  says  and  then  it  gets  into  me 
and  I  let  it  move  me  like  it  wants  to.  I  used  to  make 
believe  I  was  a  bird  and  went  flying  way  off  over  the 


76          THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

houses  and  factories  and  out  to  the  country  where  the 
trees  and  grass  and  flowers  are.  But  I  never  could 
'magine  the  country  was  as  nice  as  this  " — her  avidity 
for  nature  knowledge  and  communion  was  betrayed  in 
the  tremulousness  of  her  deep  voice — "why  I  would  have 
called  any  person  a  liar  who  told  me  that  you  can  honest- 
to-goodness  watch  the  birds  on  their  nests  and  go  so  near 
them  you  can  see  their  eyes  lookin'  at  you  like  they  want 
to  talk  to  you  and  ask  you  not  to  please  hurt  the  eggs 
or  babies!  Funny,  now  here  I  am  in  the  very  country 
I  used  to  dream  about  and  make  believe  I  was  in  when 
the  music  played  fast,  jingly  things.  In  Red  Rose  Court, 
crowded  and  dirty  and  smelly  I  used  to  pretend  I  could 
fly  like  a  bird  and  here  I  am  where  nothin's  crowded 
'cept  the  trees  and  flowers." 

The  children,  unable  to  comprehend  the  full  signifi- 
cance of  Sarah's  flights  of  imagination,  laughed  kindly 
at  her.  "  You're  a  queer  kid !  "  they  told  her.  But  Miss 
Hughes  was  mentally  analyzing  the  child  of  Red  Rose 
Court:  all  activity  and  energy;  intense  in  her  likes  and 
dislikes ;  variable  in  her  moods ;  bubbling  over  with  sheer 
exuberance  of  spirits ;  imaginative  to  a  high  degree ;  sus- 
ceptible to  keen  sorrow  and  equally  exquisite  joy;  made 
to  love  and  be  loved  with  all  the  concentrated  force  of 
womanhood — a  child  after  her  own  heart ! 

The  motherless  girl  could  not  know  it  then,  though  she 
realized  it  in  later  years,  that  that  night  the  great  mother- 
yearning — the  divine  gift  that  dwells  in  every  noble 
woman's  heart — went  out  from  Miss  Hughes  to  the  little 
girl  and  began  its  inspired  ministrations  for  her.  The 
child  could  not  know  the  feelings  she  stirred  in  the 
breast  of  the  matron  who  was,  first  of  all,  a  mother  at 
heart;  the  magnitude  of  the  love  stimulated  in  the  Irish 


SARAH'S  LESSON  77 

woman  who  was  destined  to  become  a  guiding  influence 
in  the  child  from  the  slums;  but  instinct  told  Sarah  of 
the  tenderness  in  the  matron's  heart  for  her  and  when 
presently  Miss  Hughes  responded  to  the  call  for  an- 
other song,  Sarah  sat  with  one  arm  thrown  affectionately 
upon  the  broad  knees  of  the  singer. 

"  Sing  something  soft  this  time,"  one  asked.  Miss 
Hughes  responded  with  that  old,  old  song,  so  rich  in  true 
sentiment,  "  Believe  Me  if  All  Those  Endearing  Young 
Charms." 

The  years  had  taken  from  the  woman's  voice  much  of 
its  strength  and  sweetness,  yet  the  song  pleased  and 
touched  the  little  group  upon  the  porch  of  the  reforma- 
tory. When  she  had  sung  the  last  verse  with  an  added 
tenderness : 

"  No  the  heart  that  has  truly  loved  never  forgets 

But  as  truly  loves  on  to  the  close : 
As  the  sunflower  turns  on  her  God  when  he  sets 
The  same  look  which  she  burned  when  he  rose," 

Sarah  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  I  like  that  last  part !  That  means 
that  when  you  love  a  person  you  love  them  for  keeps, 
don't  it  ?  You  sang  it  like  you  meant  it,  Miss  Hughes." 

"  I  do  mean  it,  child."  The  matron  rose.  "  Come.  It 
is  time  to  go  in." 

The  blue-clad  girls  formed  into  line  and  entered  the 
house.  They  went  to  the  schoolroom  and  after  each  had 
taken  her  place  Lettie  sat  down  before  the  old-fashioned 
piano  and  Miss  Hughes  took  her  customary  place  by  the 
desk  facing  the  girls. 

"  What  hymn  to-night  ?  "  she  asked  the  girl  to  whom 
that  day  brought  the  privilege  of  choosing  the  hymns  at 
prayers. 


78          THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

"  '  Lead  Kindly  Light/  please,"  came  the  ready  answer. 
Smiles  of  approval  shone  upon  the  faces  of  many  girls, 
but  each  one  sat  with  hands  folded  and  body  erect  as 
Lettie  played  the  opening  bars. 

Then  the  song  rose:  tender,  sweet,  pulsating.  Miss 
Hughes  joined  in  it,  her  heart  throbbed  with  a  great  love 
and  pity  as  the  beautiful  lines  fell  from  her  lips.  Did 
the  girls  realize  what  the  words  meant  ? 

"  The  night  is  dark  and  I  am  far  from  home " 

little  girls  whose  eyes  were  wistful  with  hunger  for 
mother-love  and  their  inalienable  rights  to  the  shelter 
and  joys  of  a  happy  home;  tiny  children  whose  brief 
years  had  been  shadowed  by  fear  and  suffering,  dark- 
ened by  poverty  and  begging,  haunted  by  vice  and  cor- 
ruption; little  girls,  robbed  of  their  birthrights,  sang 
sweetly : 

"  Keep  Thou  my  feet,  I  do  not  ask  to  see 
The  distant  scene — one  step  enough  for  me." 

Older  girls,  some  mild  and  gentle,  with  faces  marked 
with  weakness;  others  with  intense  fires  smouldering  in 
their  eyes — all  joined  in  the  hymn  and  sang,  who  knows 
with  what  true  feeling : 

"  I  loved  the  garish  day  and  spite  of  fears, 
Pride  ruled  my  will.    Remember  not  past  years!  " 

After  the  hymn  Miss  Hughes  bowed  her  head  and  at 
the  sign  every  girl  did  likewise.  Then  they  repeated 
slowly  the  Lord's  Prayer. 

Afterward  they  formed  again  into  line  and,  facing 
Miss  Hughes,  said  in  unison,  "  Good-night,  Miss 
Hughes." 


SARAH'S  LESSON  79 

She  smiled  as  she  replied,  "  Good-night,  girls." 

They  remained  in  line  until  they  reached  the  next  floor. 
There  they  disbanded.  Each  older  girl  retired  to  her 
own  tiny  room,  while  the  younger  ones  flocked  together 
in  the  large  dormitory  where  they  crept,  one  by  one,  into 
narrow  white  beds. 

Sarah,  arrayed  in  her  flowing  nightgown,  put  on  prop- 
erly now,  sank  upon  her  knees  by  the  side  of  her  bed. 

"What  you  doing?"  asked  one  of  the  girls.  "  Didn't 
you  say  your  prayers  down-stairs  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  not  all  I  want  to  say/'  And  her  dark  head 
bowed  upon  the  white  sheet. 

"  Oh,  God,"  she  prayed  half  audibly,  "  Miss  Hughes 
says  it  helps  to  talk  to  you  and  I  think  she  knows  about 
as  much  as  any  person  you  ever  made.  She  says,  too, 
you  know  all  about  us  so  you  must  know  how  I  made  a 
darned  mess  o'  things  to-day  again  when  I  was  goin'  to 
be  so  good.  But  please  don't  forget  to  remember  that 
I'm  sorry  for  bein'  so  bad  and  I  really,  truly,  cross  my 
heart,  want  to  be  good.  Please  make  my  little  dog  well 
where  I  hurt  him  and  make  him  and  me  grow  into  a 
fine  dog  and  girl.  And  bless  my  poor  pa,  bless  him  a  whole 
lot.  I  couldn't  tell  you  how  much  if  I  stayed  here  all 
»  night,  but  bless  him  lots  and  lots  and  lots.  And  don't 
forget  how  sorry  I  am  for  bein'  bad.  And — and  I  guess 
that's  all.  Amen." 


CHAPTER  V 

LETTERS 

'July  15. 
DEAR  PA: 

Every  girl  here  writes  a  letter  to  her  folks  once  a 
month,  so  you'll  get  one  from  me  that  often.  You  are  all 
the  folks  I  have,  all  that  I  know  about.  Isn't  it  nice  I 
can  write  you  letters?  That'll  be  a  whole  dozen  in  a 
year.  We  all  sit  in  the  schoolroom  and  write  and  then 
Miss  Hughes  corrects  them  and  we  copy  them  on  nice 
paper.  I  can't  write  very  good  but  neither  can  some  of 
the  other  girls — you  should  see  our  letters  when  they  are 
corrected — look  like  they  got  the  smallpox,  all  marked 
up  with  blue  pencil. 

I'm  in  a  nice  place.  If  you  could  be  here  with  me  I'd 
like  it  so  much  I'd  never  think  about  going  to  heaven  some 
day.  Miss  Hughes,  the  lady  has  charge  of  us,  is  nice. 
I  asked  her  what  kind  of  a  place  you  are  in  and  she  said 
it  wasn't  so  bad  if  you  behaved  right.  Anyhow  I  guess 
it  isn't  worse  than  that  little  room  back  of  the  closet  and 
now  you  don't  have  to  be  afraid  you'll  get  caught  like 
you  used  to  be,  so  that's  something  to  be  glad  for.  I 
could  cry  bushels  of  tears  if  that  would  bring  you  here 
with  me,  but  crying  won't  help  a  bit  and  just  makes  my 
nose  red  and  my  heart  heavy  so  I  am  going  to  smile  like 
Miss  Hughes  says  is  better  to  do.  I  hope  you  like  it  a 
little  anyhow  where  you  are. 


LETTERS  Si 

The  little  dog  I  got  that  day  in  the  park  is  here 
with  me.  I  call  him  Jerry  for  you.  He  follows  me  all 
around  the  place.  The  girls  like  him  but  he  likes  me 
best. 

Miss  Hughes  is  nice  to  me.  She  is  a  kind  lady  and  I 
am  going  to  be  good  for  her.  I  have  been  bad  since  I 
came  here,  but  I  guess  if  I  can  be  bad  I  can  be  good,  so 
I  am  going  to  try  that  a  while. 

Pa,  if  you  could  only  see  the  flowers.  Well,  I'll  tell 
you  about  them  and  you  shut  your  eyes  and  make  be- 
lieve you  see  them  and  that  will  be  the  next  best  thing 
to  being  here.  Back  of  the  house  is  a  big  field,  bigger 
than  the  whole  of  Red  Rose  Court,  and  it's  chuck  full  of 
daisies.  There  are  billions  and  millions  of  them  and  Miss 
Hughes  lets  us  pick  them  and  bring  to  the  house  to 
decorate.  She  took  us  to  a  place  yesterday  where  red 
lilies  grow.  I  found  some  pretty  blue  flowers  like  stars 
in  the  grass. 

I  have  more  freckles  than  any  girl  in  the  whole  place, 
so  that's  something ! 

I  help  to  make  beds  and  work  in  the  kitchen,  shell  peas 
and  peel  potatoes  and  do  things  like  that.  Miss  Mary, 
the  lady  in  the  kitchen,  says  I'm  real  handy  and  the  other 
day  she  gave  me  and  some  of  the  other  little  girls  that 
helped  her  some  cookies. 

We  had  a  Fourth  of  July  celebration.  We  didn't  have 
any  firecrackers  nor  such  things,  but  we  had  a  grand 
holiday.  We  played  under  the  apple  tree  all  morning 
and  in  the  afternoon  we  had  what  the  big  girls  said  were 
exercises.  We  sang  patriotic  songs,  some  of  the  girls 
spoke  pieces  and  then  we  all  marched  round  the  house 
and  waved  flags.  We  had  some  ice-cream,  every  one 
of  us.  We  don't  get  ice-cream  except  on  Fourth  of 


82  THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

July  and  Decoration  Day,  the  girls  say.  But  then  we  get 
molasses  every  day  and  I  like  that,  but  of  course  in  hot 
weather  the  ice-cream  cools  you  off  better.  After  sup- 
per Lettie  and  Miss  Hughes  put  off  some  rockets.  Then 
we  sat  out  a  long  time  on  the  porch  and  watched  the 
balloons.  There  were  lots  of  them  floating  around  in 
the  sky  and  we  could  see  them  because  we  are  so  high 
up. 

Miss  Hughes  says  I  am  improving  and  Miss  Mary 
called  me  a  dear  child  the  other  day.  Of  course  I'm  no 
angel  yet.  Guess  I  got  some  to  go  yet.  My  dresses  still 
fit  on  the  shoulders — no  wings  sprouting  yet.  I  guess  I 
wrote  enough  for  this  time.  When  winter  comes  I  am 
going  to  school  but  I  like  summer  when  we  can  be  out 
and  don't  have  to  study. 

I  hope  you  don't  forget  me. 

Your  girl, 

SADE. 

August  75. 
DEAR  PA: 

I  didn't  tell  you  that  we  get  good  things  to  eat 
here.  Well,  we  do.  We  get  molasses  and  prunes  every 
day  for  breakfast.  I  like  the  prunes  but  the  girls  say 
when  I  have  been  here  as  long  as  some  of  them  and  et 
prunes  every  morning  for  three  hundred  and  sixty-five 
days  in  a  year  I  won't  feel  so  nice  to  the  prunes.  One 
of  the  little  girls  who  has  been  here  two  years  said  last 
week  that  she  was  going  to  pray  that  every  prune  tree 
in  the  whole  United  States  would  die.  But  I  like  mo- 
lasses !  It  is  so  sweet  and  sticky  and  just  the  next  thing 
to  candy.  I  hope  you  get  molasses  too. 

We  go  to  church  every   Sunday  morning.     We  get 


LETTERS  83 

dressed  in  our  best  dresses,  they're  light-blue  chambray. 
The  big  girls  have  gored  skirts  and  shirt-waists  and  we 
little  girls  have  gathered  skirts  and  berthas  on  the  waists. 
I  guess  you  don't  know  what  a  bertha  is — it's  a  wide 
round  thing  that  fits  round  the  yoke  of  a  dress  and  ours 
have  little  ruffles  all  around  them.  They  look  very  nice 
and  I  feel  swell  in  my  Sunday  dress.  It's  the  prettiest 
-jne  I  ever  had. 

I  started  to  tell  you  about  when  we  go  to  church.  We 
have  to  walk  all  the  way  down  a  long  road  from  the  top 
of  a  great  big  hill  where  the  reformatory  is  built.  After 
church  we  have  to  walk  up  the  hill  again  and  sometimes 
when  it's  hot  I  wish  God  hadn't  made  any  mountains  but 
when  I  get  to  the  top  and  feel  the  cool  breeze  and  see 
how  lovely  it  is  on  Sunset  Mountain  I  am  mighty  glad 
He  did. 

I  guess  that  is  all  for  this  time. 

SADE. 

September  15. 
DEAR  FATHER: 

We  still  get  molasses  every  morning  for  breakfast 
and  also  prunes.  I  still  eat  the  prunes,  but  I  wouldn't 
miss  them  if  Miss  Mary  forgot  to  cook  them  some  day. 
The  molasses  makes  me  feel  like  a  stick  of  candy.  I 
wonder  if  I  might  get  tired  of  that  some  day.  It  would 
be  a  pity  for  there  is  so  much  of  it  here. 

It  is  lovely  here  now.  Last  month  we  had  lots  of  good 
times  in  the  fields  and  woods  watching  the  birds.  There 
are  little  yellow  ones  come  swinging  on  the  daisies  and 
grass  right  near  our  porch.  Miss  Hughes  says  their  name 
is  goldfinch.  She  knows  all  about  birds,  she  must  be 
awful  smart.  You  should  see  the  pretty  blue  bird  we 


84  THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

see  often  on  Sunday  when  we  go  to  church.  He's  just 
a  little  fellow,  blue  all  over,  and  he  sits  on  the  telephone 
wire  that  runs  up  to  our  place.  When  he  sings  he  often 
stops  like  he  didn't  know  the  rest  of  the  tune. 

Last  week  I  heard  one  girl  say  to  another  that  if  her 
father  was  bad  she'd  be  ashamed  of  him,  that  mine  is 
awful  bad.  It  made  me  feel  like  batting  her.  I  went  to 
Miss  Hughes  and  asked  her  about  it  and  she  said  that 
no  matter  how  bad  people  are  if  they  are  sorry  and  want 
to  get  good  they  can  do  it.  God  will  forgive  them  and 
they  can  begin  all  over  again.  I'm  trying  to  get  this 
God  business  fixed  so  I  understand  it,  but  it's  such  a 
mixup.  When  Miss  Hughes  explains  it  I  think  I  see 
what  she  means,  but  when  I  am  alone  and  think  about  it 
I  can't  make  head  nor  tail  out  of  it.  I  think  of  you  in 
jail  and  lots  of  bad  people  out  of  it  and  I  don't  see  what 
God  is  trying  to  do  when  he  lets  such  things  happen. 
Then  I  think  of  Mrs.  Maloney's  baby  that  He  took  and 
I  think  He  must  be  kind  to  fix  things  for  it.  But  Miss 
Hughes  says  there  are  many  things  we  can't  understand, 
that  even  she  don't  know  just  why  some  things  happen. 
She  makes  me  feel  better  when  she  tells  about  you  be- 
ginning all  over  again.  You  did  want  to  do  that  but  got 
caught  too  soon.  When  you  come  out  I'll  be  big  enough 
to  keep  house  for  you  and  we  can  find  a  nice  little  place 
and  be  happy.  I  help  Miss  Mary  in  the  kitchen  all  I  can 
so  I  learn  how  to  cook  and  do  things  and  will  be  ready 
for  you. 

When  that  girl  said  she'd  be  ashamed  of  her  father 
if  he  was  like  you,  before  I  thought  I  gave  her  a  good 
punch.  Then  I  was  sorry  and  let  her  play  with  Jerry 
a  whole  afternoon  to  make  up  for  hitting  her.  I  told 
her  that  you  made  money  and  she  said  that  some  more 


LETTERS  85 

people  ought  to  be  in  jail  for  making  money  out  of 
children  and  poor  people.  The  next  Sunday  the  preacher 
said  in  church  that  the  men  who  make  counterfeit  money 
are  sent  to  jail  if  they  get  caught  and  he  thinks  men  who 
make  money  because  they  make  people  work  for  a  little 
in  their  factories  should  be  put  in  the  same  place,  even 
if  they  try  to  cover  their  sin  by  giving  some  of  it  to  poor 
persons.  So  cheer  up,  pa,  there  are  lots  worse  men  in 
the  world  than  you ! 

Miss  Hughes  says  I  ought  to  write  you  cheerful  letters, 
but  I  can't  think  of  anything  funny.  Something  awful 
came  near  happening  to  me.  I'll  tell  you  and  it  might 
cheer  you  to  know  it  didn't  happen  after  all.  There's  a 
woman  visits  the  home  very  often.  Her  name  is  Miss 
Dixon.  Her  brother  used  to  be  a  Trustee  of  the  re- 
formatory. Trustees  are  the  big  fat  men  with  lots  of 
money  and  bald  heads  who  come  out  here  to  see  if  every- 
thing is  clean  and  right.  Why,  this  place  is  always  as 
clean  as  I  think  heaven  must  be,  yet  when  Miss  Hughes 
knows  the  Trustees  are  coming  for  a  visit  she  makes  us 
clean  and  scrub  until  the  floor  almost  has  holes.  Then 
the  Trustees,  a  big  line  of  them,  go  all  through  the  build- 
ing and  look  into  closets  and  corners,  talk  to  Miss  Hughes 
and  the  girls  a  little,  and  ride  off  again  down  the  hill. 
Well,  Miss  Dixon  had  a  brother  who  was  a  Trustee,  and 
she  has  friends  now  who  still  are,  so  she  is  very  much 
interested  in  the  place.  She  comes  up  sometimes  to  see 
us.  She  must  be  rich  for  she  wears  grand  things  and 
rides  in  an  automobile  that  has  a  roof  and  sides  on  it  and 
a  man  to  make  it  go.  She's  about  the  richest  lady  I  ever 
saw,  for  she  wears  diamond  rings  and  feathers  on  her 
hats,  but  she  isn't  nicer  than  Miss  Hughes  who  has  no 
shiny  stones  or  feathers. 


86          THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

Miss  Dixon  came  up  last  week  in  her  car.  She 
brought  some  other  ladies  with  her  to  see  the  place. 
Miss  Hughes  called  us  into  the  schoolroom  to  sing  for 
the  visitors.  You  know  my  face  isn't  what  you  would 
call  pretty,  with  my  ginger  snaps  and  my  big  mouth  and 
when  I  run  and  get  hot  I  guess  I  wouldn't  take  much 
of  a  prize  at  a  show.  I  came  in  and  sat  in  my  seat  and 
got  ready  to  sing.  Miss  Dixon  put  up  a  funny  pair  of 
glasses  with  a  handle  and  I  heard  her  ask  Miss  Hughes 
who  I  was.  She  talked  louder  than  she  thought  for  I 
heard  her  say,  "  What  a  homely  child !  "  I  couldn't  hear 
what  Miss  Hughes  whispered.  Then  Miss  Dixon  looked 
at  me  again  and  I  heard  her  say,  "  Yes,  the  eyes  are  fine 
but  where  did  she  get  those  dreadful  freckles  ?  " 

Did  she  think  I  painted  the  freckles  on  my  face?  Be- 
fore I  thought  about  Miss  Hughes  and  how  she  would 
want  me  to  hold  my  tongue  I  stood  right  up  and  an- 
swered the  lady,  "  My  freckles  come  from  when  I  was 
making  mud  pies  and  it  splashed  on  my  face." 

All  the  girls  thought  I  was  funny  and  began  to  laugh. 
Miss  Hughes  looked  so  ashamed  of  me  and  I  was  sorry 
right  away  that  I  made  her  feel  that  way  so  I  got  up 
again  and  said,  "  I  didn't  mean  to  be  rude,  but  I 
heard  you  wonder  and  said  it  before  I  thought.  That's 
the  Irish  in  me,  to  speak  first  and  be  sorry  after- 
ward." 

The  silly  girls  thought  that  was  funny  too  and  some 
of  them  snickered.  Then  I  did  feel  ashamed.  I  was 
wondering  what  would  happen  next,  whether  Miss 
Hughes  would  punish  me  in  the  Meditation  Room  or 
only  on  the  Homestead.  Then  Miss  Dixon  began  to 
laugh.  She  laughed  so  the  feather  on  her  hat  almost 
fell  off.  When  she  stopped  a  little  she  said  something  to 


LETTERS  87 

Miss  Hughes  and  they  called  me  up..  She  put  her  hand 
on  my  head.  "  I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  said  like  I  was 
a  lady  like  her  and  rich,  "  I  didn't  think  you  would  hear 
what  I  said.  You  do  have  freckles  but  don't  let  that 
worry  you  for  you  have  some  brains  under  all  that  black 
hair  and  as  Miss  Hughes  says,  your  eyes  are  fine.  Look 
at  me,  Sarah."  I  did  it  and  she  smiled  and  I  could  have 
forgiven  her  for  anything  she  said,  for  she  was  so  sweet. 
She  patted  my  head  and  told  me  she  would  come  to  see 
me  soon  again  for  she  knew  I  would  grow  into  a  young 
woman  to  be  proud  of.  I  am  glad  that  happened  for 
now  I  know  I  have  nice  eyes.  Freckles  and  a  pug  nose 
don't  make  a  very  pretty  map,  but  since  I  know  my  eyes 
are  fine  I  feel  lots  better. 

Next  week  we  all  go  to  school.  A  new  teacher  is  com- 
ing and  we  are  all  anxious  to  see  her.  If  she's  nice  to  us 
we'll  like  her  but  if  she's  cranky — well,  she'll  say  good- 
bye to  Sunset  Mountain  most  as  soon  as  she  says  how- 
de-do.  I'll  tell  you  about  her  next  time  I  write. 

Lots  of  love  from 

SADE. 


October  15. 
DEAR  FATHER: 

The  new  teacher  came  and  is  very  nice — so  far. 
Some  of  the  big  girls  say  perhaps  she  is  foxy  enough  to 
get  us  on  her  side  and  then  turn  round  and  be  cranky 
like  some  others  they  had.  But  Miss  Hughes  says  Miss 
Fowler,  that's  the  new  teacher's  name — is  a  dear  little 
thing  and  I  guess  she  knows.  Miss  Fowler  is  little,  not 
big  around  nor  up  and  down,  but  she  knows  a  lot.  She 
goes  with  Miss  Hughes  and  us  for  walks  and  invites  us 


88  THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

to  come  in  her  room  after  school.  Then  she  shows  us 
pictures  and  tells  about  them  for  she's  been  all  over  the 
whole  United  States!  Oh,  she  has  the  most  beautiful 
dresses !  All  the  girls  are  planning  to  have  some  like . 
them  when  they  go  out.  She  has  waists  of  thin  lacey 
stuff  and  silk  dresses.  She  just  wears  those  fancy  things 
in  the  evenings  when  she  goes  down  the  mountain  to 
visit  some  of  her  friends  that  live  out  where  the  trolleys 
run.  Every  Sunday  she  takes  us  to  church.  Then  she 
wears  a  pretty  brown  suit  and  I  am  going  to  have  one 
like  that  when  I  grow  up.  I'd  like  to  have  all  my  clothes 
like  Miss  Fowler's.  Miss  Hughes  says  we  are  going  to 
have  a  lovely  winter  on  our  mountain  now  that  Miss 
Fowler  is  here.  We  are  to  learn  to  make  baskets  out  of 
grass  and  some  other  stuff  Miss  Fowler  calls  raffia.  She 
showed  us  some  pretty  ones  she  made. 

The  goldenrod  is  out,  lots  and  lots  of  it.  There's  a 
big  patch  along  the  road  and  there  are  blue  asters  grow- 
ing near  it.  The  trees  are  showing  gay  colors,  a  little 
red  and  yellow  and  the  girls  say  Sunset  Mountain  will 
soon  be  like  a  picture.  Last  night  the  sunset  was  so 
pretty  it  made  that  funny  hurt  come  in  my  throat  like  I 
felt  the  first  time  I  knew  I  had  a  conscience,  the  time  I 
was  bad  and  hurt  Jerry.  I  was  wishing  you  could  see  it 
too. 

Miss  Dixon  was  here  the  other  day  and  saw  my  dog. 
She  asked  me  what  I  would  take  for  him  and  I  told  her 
he  is  not  for  sale.  She  tried  to  coax  me  to  sell  him  but 
I  said  that  if  she  was  rich  as  the  Midas  in  the  Reader  in 
school  and  could  make  every  leaf  on  our  mountain  turn 
to  gold  she  wouldn't  have  enough  money  to  buy  that  dog ! 
Then  she  laughed  and  called  me  an  original,  clever  child 
and  said  I  should  always  be  loyal  like  that  and  take  good 


LETTERS  89 

care  of  the  dog.     He  is  fine  now,  with  his  white  collar 
of  hair  round  his  neck,  that  looks  like  the  one  Queen 
Elizabeth  wears  in  the  History  book. 
Much  love  from 

JERRY  AND  SADE. 

November  15. 
DEAR  PA: 

We  have  no  flowers  now.  They  are  all  dead  but 
Miss  Hughes  says  they  are  just  sleeping  and  will  come 
back  to  us  in  the  spring.  A  few  butterflies  still  come 
around  but  their  wings  are  torn  and  ragged  and  I  guess 
they  will  die  too  before  long.  Sometimes  I  make  up 
poetry  just  because  something  inside  me  makes  me  feel 
like  it.  One  of  the  girls  showed  some  to  Miss  Hughes 
and  Miss  Fowler  and  they  said  I  have  talent  for  it,  that 
perhaps  some  day  I  might  be  a  real  writer  of  things  that 
sing.  So  now  I  am  going  to  practice  writing  poetry  a 
lot  and  when  I  grow  up  you  can  be  proud  of  me.  Here 
is  one  I  wrote  about  the  flowers  and  called,  "  The  Death 
of  the  Butterfly."  Helen  says  it  makes  her  feel  like  cry- 
ing but  I  hope  you  won't  feel  that  way  for  it  is  the  nicest 
one  I  ever  did  and  I  want  you  to  read  it. 

THE  DEATH  OF  THE  BUTTERFLY 

The  flowers  are  all  dead 

But  they'll  grow  again  in  the  spring, 
The  birds  all  went  far  away  from  here 

But  some  day  we'll  hear  them  sing. 
But  the  poor  little  butterfly 

With  its  wings  so  pretty  all  ragged  and  tore 
Will  soon  die  too  and  stay  dead 

Forever  and  evermore, 


90          THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURS 

I  hope  that  God  will  fix  a  heaven  for  the  poor  butter- 
flies, don't  you  ? 

I  am  learning  to  sew.  Miss  Hughes  teaches  us  to 
make  all  our  own  clothes.  Oh,  I  am  making  a  new  blue 
chambray  dress  for  myself  and  am  prouder  of  it  than  an 
Irishman  in  his  new  policeman  uniform.  When  I  first  came 
here  it  seemed  strange  to  see  so  many  girls  all  dressed 
in  the  very  same  kind  of  dresses  but  I'm  getting  used  to 
seeing  a  pack  of  girls  that  look  just  like  me  and  forget 
all  about  it  until  we  go  to  church  Sunday  mornings  and 
see  people  watch  us  and  whisper  about  us  to  each  other. 
Guess  they  are  glad  their  children  are  not  sent  to  a  re- 
formatory but  some  of  them  act  in  church  like  they 
needed  to  be  sent  some  place  and  be  taught  manners. 
But  most  of  the  people  in  the  church  are  nice  to  us  and 
say  good-morning  to  us  after  church.  Listen,  pa,  while 
I  tell  you  about  the  funny  kid  was  sent  here  last  week. 
Just  a  skinny  young  one,  nine  years  old,  but  she  looked 
tougher  than  leather.  The  things  that  kid  said  to  Miss 
Hughes  the  first  day — whew,  if  that  lady  weren't  an 
angel  she'd  have  thrashed  the  hide  off  the  young  one! 
Well,  the  new  girl  sat  beside  me  the  first  Sunday  in 
church  and  when  the  preacher  got  up  to  read  the  Bible 
she  whispered  to  me,  "  Is  that  God  talking  ?  "  I  hushed 
her  up  and  thought  when  we  got  out  I'd  tell  her  how  a 
church  is  run,  but  after  a  while  another  man,  a  young 
one,  got  up  to  preach  and  she  whispered  again,  "  Now, 
that's  God's  Son,  ain't  it !  "  And  she  smiled  like  she  dis- 
covered some  great  secret.  I  told  Miss  Hughes  about  it 
and  she  looked  sad  and  said  something  about  the  heathen 
in  our  midst  and  then  she  took  that  new  girl  in  her  room 
and  talked  to  her  a  while.  And  I  bet  my  new  Sunday 
shoes  that  Miss  Hughes  makes  something  more  than  a 


LETTERS  91 

Eeathen  out  that  girl.  Miss  Hughes  is  like — well,  I 
wish  I  could  write  some  poetry  about  her  telling  just 
what  I  think  of  her— she's  like  sunshine,  sunshine  on  a 
rainy  day,  water  when  you  are  thirsty,  she  is  like  what 
I  like  to  think  my  own  mother  would  be  if  she  was 
living. 

Miss  Fowler  is  nice  to  us  too  and  I  guess  that  is  lucky 
for  her.  The  girls  said  the  last  teacher  they  had  was  a 
grouch  and  she  told  the  girls  they  were  bad,  that  she 
knew  why  they  had  been  sent  to  that  reformatory,  that 
there  was  no  good  in  them  and  if  they  did  not  mind  her 
she'd  have  them  sent  to  prison  as  soon  as  they  were  old 
enough.  Well,  it  got  so  hot  for  her  that  she  left  and 
now  we  have  Miss  Fowler.  She  and  Miss  Hughes  and 
Miss  Mary  sit  together  after  we  go  to  bed  and  Miss 
Fowler  says  she  is  gaining  so  much  from  Miss  Hughes. 
Wish  I  would  grow  to  be  a  nice  woman  like  that,  nice 
and  good  yet  laughing  and  liking  fun  like  Miss  Hughes 
does.  So  you  see  we  are  all  happy  here  and  I  hope  you 
are  the  same. 

With  love, 

SADE. 


December  75. 
DEAR  FATHER: 

I  hope  you  had  a  nice  Thanksgiving.  Lettie  says 
that  is  a  funny  thing  to  say  to  you  but  I  mean  I  hope 
youjiad  a  nice  one  in  your  heart  no  matter  where  you 
were.  You  could  be  thankful  that  you  are  not  there 
because  you  did  some  dreadful  thing  like  many  people 
do,  and  you  could  be  thankful  that  I  have  a  nice  home 
and  am  growing  and  learning  to  work  and  to  make  bas- 


92          THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

kets  and  lots  of  other  things  and  that  I  don't  have  to 
live  with  ma  any  more  and  you  don't  neither  and  that 
I  have  nice  clean  dresses  now  and  shoes  and  won't  have 
to  be  cold  or  hungry  once  all  this  whole  winter  coming. 
Miss  Hughes  says  there  is  a  silver  lining  to  every  cloud 
and  I  hope  you  can  see  yours. 

Lettie  is  going  away  from  the  reformatory  next  week. 
She  has  been  obedient  and  now  she  will  have  a  fine  home 
with  nice  people  who  want  her  to  take  care  of  two  chil- 
dren. She  isn't  anxious  to  go  for  we  all  like  the  moun- 
tain but  the  place  she  is  going  the  people  are  friends  to 
Miss  Hughes  and  so  she  won't  be  treated  like  a  slave  as 
some  of  the  girls  were  who  went  out  to  work  and  earn 
money.  We  can't  stay  here  forever  and  the  Trustees 
want  every  girl  to  go  as  soon  as  she  is  good  enough  and 
knows  enough  to  help  herself  out  in  the  world.  Oh,  I 
don't  want  to  be  sent  out  to  people  I  don't  know  and 
have  to  work  for  them!  I  hope  you  get  out  soon  and 
take  me  to  a  nice  home.  I  like  it  here  and  am  learning 
so  much  that  is  making  me  a  better  girl,  Miss  Hughes 
tells  me.  Sometimes  I  have  to  be  punished  for  the  good 
of  my  soul,  as  she  says.  Last  week  in  school  Helen  got 
up  and  when  she  came  to  the  part  in  the  reading  les- 
son that  says,  "  Darkness  falls  over  the  land "  she 
said,  "  Darkness  stumbles  over  the  land."  I  got  the 
giggles  and  the  teacher  had  to  scold  me  to  make  me 
stop. 

Miss  Hughes  gave  me  a  doll  dressed  in  white,  and  has 
eyes  that  shut  when  you  lay  it  down.  It  is  the  very  first 
nice  doll  I  ever  got  and  I  am  going  to  keep  it  until  I  am 
big  and  I  can  show  it  to  my  children  and  tell  them  about 
Miss  Hughes  and  ask  them,  "  Aren't  you  glad  you  have 
a  nice  mother  to  love  you  and  take  care  of  you  and  don't 


LETTERS  93 

have  to  be  brought  up  by  strangers  in  a  bad  place  ?  "  I 
bet  that  will  make  them  happy. 

Our  mountain  is  pretty  now,  all  covered  with  snow, 
but  the  snow  stays  white.  In  Red  Rose  Court,  you  re- 
member, it  used  to  be  black  most  as  soon  as  it  hit  the 
ground,  but  here  it  is  white,  so  white  it  hurts  your  eyes. 
Last  evening  Miss  Hughes  called  us  to  see  the  sunset. 
The  trees  on  the  hills  and  all  around  were  covered  with 
ice  and  the  sky  was  red  and  yellow  and  when  it  shined 
on  the  trees  they  looked  nicer  than  any  picture  I  ever 
saw  and  sparkled  more  than  the  diamonds  and  things 
we  used  to  see  in  the  windows  on  Fourth  Street.  Miss 
Hughes  said  it  looked  like  a  glimpse  of  heaven — if 
heaven  is  half  that  fine  I  think  I'd  like  to  get  there 
too. 

We  went  down  the  hill  in  the  snow  Sunday  to  church. 
Wore  our  coats  and  blue  hats  with  red  ribbons  on  them 
— one  of  the  Trustees  must  like  red  for  we  have  it  on  all 
our  hats  and  use  it  for  hair  ribbons  most  of  the  time,  but 
I  am  not  kicking  about  it  for  it's  a  sight  better  than  the 
shoe  string  I  used  to  tie  round  my  plait  down  in  Red 
Rose  Court.  After  Christmas  Miss  Fowler  is  going  to 
teach  us  to  make  raffia  hats  and  Miss  Hughes  is  going 
to  try  to  get  blue  ribbon  for  them. 

We  still  get  molasses  every  day.  Some  time  ago  I  got 
tired  of  it  so  now  I  do  without  it  for  a  few  days  then  I 
am  glad  to  eat  it  again.  Just  think  of  getting  tired  of 
anything  sweet  like  molasses!  I  never  thought  I'd  do 
that !  I  am  learning  lots  of  things  here  on  the  top  of  the 
mountain.  You  need  not  feel  sad  about  me,  but  if  you 
ever  do  then  try  to  think  ahead  to  the  time  when  you 
and  I  can  have  a  little  home.  I  think  that  will  be  won- 
derful, for  I  will  know  how  to  keep  house  and  cook  for 


94          THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

you  and  we  can  live  like  decent  people.    I  hope  you  are 
well  and  happy.    And  I  send  you  much  love  from  Jerry 

and  me. 

SARAH. 


CHAPTER  VI 

AFTER  SIX  YEARS — MORE  LETTERS 

DEAR  FATHER: 

When  I  wrote  my  first  letter  to  you  from  this 
place  I  never  dreamed  I  would  be  writing  from  it  after 
six  years.  But  here  I  am,  still  on  Sunset  Mountain, 
thanks  to  Miss  Hughes  and  Miss  Dixon.  You  remember 
the  latter  as  the  woman  who  has  influential  friends,  Trus- 
tees of  the  reformatory,  and  whose  interest  I  once  gained 
by  some  childish  remarks  about  my  countless  freckles. 
The  combined  petitions  of  Miss  Dixon  and  Miss  Hughes 
have  spared  me  the  unhappiness  of  being  "  loaned  "  to 
some  busy  housewife  who  desired  the  valuable  but  sur- 
prisingly cheap  services  of  a  young  girl  who  could  be 
transformed,  or  deformed,  into  a  submissive,  patient 
slave.  Miss  Dixon  has  done  much  for  me  in  that  way  but 
Miss  Hughes — God  be  good  to  her  forever — she  has 
been  my  white  angel  of  deliverance  these  six  years ! 
Guess  the  Irish  in  her  calls  to  the  Irish  in  me.  As  soon 
as  I  finished  the  eighth  grade  in  school — reformatory  girls 
evidently  need  no  more  extensive  education  than  that — 
she  persuaded  the  Trustees  to  have  me  appointed  assist- 
ant in  the  kitchen!  So  now  I  am  earning  my  living  in 
the  very  place  I  have  been — I  was  going  to  say  im- 
prisoned, but  that  would  not  be  fair,  for  it  has  been  any- 
thing but  that.  Some  matrons  would  have  made  it  that, 
out  never  Miss  Hughes.  I  am  to  work  for  my  board  and 


96  THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

clothes  until  I  am  eighteen  and  then  if  I  remain  I  shall 
be  placed  on  the  pay-roll.  Imagine,  Sade  of  Red  Rose 
Court  being  paid  from  the  city  treasury!  I'm  climbing 
up,  father.  In  the  meantime  I  am  to  help  Miss  Mary, 
relieve  Miss  Hughes  in  any  way  I  can,  take  visitors 
through  the  place,  help  to  watch  and  guide  the  girls  and 
have  one  afternoon  each  week  and  also  every  other  Sun- 
day for  my  own.  I'll  be  going  back  to  Red  Rose  Court 
some  day  soon  to  see  Mrs.  Maloney.  She'll  hardly  know 
me,  for  I  have  grown  tall  and — you'll  be  glad  to  hear  it — 
a  trifle  better  looking.  Miss  Hughes  says  I  have  im- 
proved wonderfully  but  it  does  make  a  difference  when 
one  is  clean  and  well  fed  and  looked  after. 

One  of  the  first  trips  I  take  will  be  to  see  you.  Miss 
Hughes  is  going  to  bring  me,  father.  After  all  these 
years — to  see  you  once  more — I  can  scarcely  wait  pa- 
tiently for  the  time.  I  do  long  to  see  you.  Why  can't 
time  fly  until  the  time  when  you  can  be  free!  If  I  al- 
lowed my  thoughts  to  dwell  upon  your  lot,  your  life  in 
that  dreadful  place — I  just  have  to  set  my  Irish  working 
and  make  myself  stop  worrying.  Sometimes  when  Miss 
Hughes  talks  to  me  and  tries  to  make  me  take  a  phil- 
osophical view  of  it  I  can  see  that  your  punishment  is 
just,  if  hard.  But  at  other  moments  I  rebel  against  the 
long  years  you  have  been  paying  and  still  must  pay  for 
the  offense  against  the  law.  Are  you  not  getting  more 
than  you  deserve,  greater  punishment  than  you  earned? 
You  made  money  out  of  metal,  others  coin  it  from  the 
blood,  body  and  very  sinews  of  children  and  underpaid 
older  workers  and  by  turning  a  pitiably  small  portion  of 
the  ill-gotten  wealth  into  the  coffers  of  charity  are  lauded 
as  philanthropists.  Surely,  your  state  is  more  to  be  de- 
sired than  theirs!  The  time  of  reckoning  is  inevitable 


AFTER  SIX  YEARS— MORE  LETTERS  97 

and  I'd  rather  have  your  chance  of  future  happiness 
than  theirs.  Miss  Hughes  says  there  will  always  be  in- 
justice in  this  world,  that  the  only  way  to  meet  it  is  to  be 
personally  just  and  do  the  right  thing  and  leave  the  rest 
to  Providence.  I  wish  I  had  her  magnificent  faith  and 
hope  and  could  look  at  life  as  she  does.  What  a  friend 
she  has  been  to  me !  She  is  a  Catholic,  a  devout  one,  and 
I  am  a  Protestant  but  if  the  East  and  the  West  can't 
meet  they  can  look  across  to  each  other  and  understand. 
I  don't  know  whether  Miss  Hughes  prays  for  my  soul  or 
if  when  I  die  she'll  have  prayers  said  to  try  to  have  me 
delivered  from  purgatory,  but  I  do  know  that  while  I  am 
living  with  her  she  is  just  as  kind  to  me  as  though  I 
were  of  her  own  faith.  And  come  to  think  about  it, 
that's  a  big  thing  to  say  and  proves  that  there  is  no  nar- 
rowness or  bigotry  about  Miss  Hughes.  She  encourages 
me  to  go  to  church.  It  was  forced  upon  me  during  the 
six  years  I  was  an  inmate  of  the  reformatory  but  since 
I  am  a  worker  there  I  have  the  blessed  privilege  of  doing 
as  I  please  in  many  matters  and  I  have  found  to  my  utter 
surprise  that  I  please  to  continue  doing  many  of  the  very 
things  I  thought  were  irksome  duties  when  they  were 
compulsory.  So  I  go  often  to  the  little  chapel  at  the 
foot  of  the  mountain.  Sometimes  I  feel  happier  as  I  sit 
there  and  listen  to  the  music  and  the  words  of  the  old 
clergyman,  other  days  I  am  possessed  with  a  restlessness 
and  trouble,  which  surges  through  me  so  that  I  want  to 
run  out  from  the  church  and  find  some  lonely  spot  and 
just  cry.  Will  I  ever  feel  the  contentment  and  peace  so 
many  people  seem  to  have?  How  can  I  attain  to  the 
poise  and  sane  thinking  of  Miss  Hughes?  Will  that 
childish  desire  to  laugh  and  cry  all  at  the  same  time  ever 
be  controlled — glory,  what  a  doleful  letter !  Sounds  like 


98  THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

the  Irish  in  me  is  clean  dead.  But  I'll  cheer  myself  up 
in  one  second — that's  the  glorious  part  of  having  Irish 
in  your  veins!  How's  this  for  a  gloom  chaser — Miss 
Hughes  went  to  a  wake  recently.  They  had  holy  water 
in  the  room  and  a  woman  came  in  and  dipped  her 
fingers  into  the  saucer  on  the  mantelpiece,  thinking  it 
was  the  holy  water.  But  some  one  had  snuffed  the 
candles  and  laid  the  black  ends  in  that  saucer  and  the 
woman  daubbed  it  all  over  her  face  when  she  went  to 
make  the  sign  of  the  cross.  It  looked  ridiculous,  of 
course — I  feel  cheered  up  and  hope  you  do  too. 

I  must  tell  you  about  our  Memorial  Day.  We  all  got 
up  early.  I  helped  the  little  girls  get  dressed,  combed 
the  hair  of  ten — won't  I  make  a  fine  stepmother  for  a 
widower  with  ten  children — and  then  I  helped  shoo  them 
down-stairs  to  get  their  work  all  done  early.  They 
cleaned  and  polished  floors  in  record  time  that  day.  Then 
we  went  out  to  the  big  field  back  of  the  house  and  picked 
daisies,  bushels  of  them !  It  was  a  picture  for  an  artist, 
the  daisy  field  with  twenty  girls  in  blue  chambray  dresses, 
each  one  picking  daisies  until  her  arms  ached.  We 
carried  them  to  the  laundry  and  made  wreaths  and  long 
chains  of  them.  It  looked  like  a  fairy  bower.  In  the 
afternoon  we  went  down  the  mountain  to  the  little  ceme- 
tery near  the  chapel.  People  looked  at  us  as  we  passed 
their  houses  and  I  speculated  upon  what  their  thoughts 
might  be.  Were  we  just  bad  girls,  parading  with  flowers 
whose  beauty  and  symbolism  we  could  not  appreciate; 
were  we  poor  unfortunates  who  merited  pity,  the  far- 
off  variety,  and  might  even  be  prayed  over;  were  we 
wood  nymphs  resurrected  for  the  occasion  and  present- 
ing a  charming  picture  as  we  went  along  swinging  our 
daisy  chains? 


AFTER  SIX  YEARS— MORE  LETTERS  99 

At  the  cemetery  we  stood  in  a  half  circle,  Miss  Hughes 
near  by.  After  addresses  about  the  brave  soldiers,  and  a 
few  of  the  old  patriotic  songs,  we  sang,  "  Cover  Them 
Over  with  Beautiful  Flowers "  and  as  we  sang  we 
marched  round  and  placed  our  flowers  on  the  graves 
marked  with  the  flag.  People  were  lovely  to  us,  they 
seemed  to  forget  that  we  came  from  the  dreadful  red 
brick  reformatory  on  the  summit  of  the  great  hill. 

As  we  walked  home  Miss  Hughes  told  us  about  her 
brother  who  marched  away  with  the  others  and  never 
came  back.  How  her  mother  used  to  keep  a  lamp  in  the 
window  for  him  for  a  long  time,  thinking  perhaps  he 
would  return,  but  he  never  came  back.  Then  we  felt 
something  of  what  it  must  have  meant  to  see  your  own 
dear  ones  march  away  to  war.  It  was  a  beautiful  day 
and  I  suppose  it  was  "  good  for  our  souls,"  as  Miss 
Hughes  says  so  many  times,  but  it  was  sad.  Next  time, 
father,  I  promise  you  to  write  a  wholly  cheerful  letter. 

With  love, 

SARAH. 

DEAR  FATHER: 

This  is  going  to  be  my  joy  letter.  Like  the  man 
who  went  slumming  and  took  some  poor  ragged  young- 
sters on  a  picnic  and  told  them  he  wanted  them  to  have 
a  good  time,  he'd  make  them  have  a  good  time,  if  he  had 
to  lick  every  blooming  kid  to  get  it !  So  I'm  going  to  be 
cheerful  if  I  lose  a  leg,  as  Mrs.  Maloney  used  to  say. 
Do  you  remember  the  time  a  dog  bit  her  and  when  some 
one  asked  her  whether  he  was  mad  she  said,  "  Mad — 
the  dog !  What  call  had  he  to  be  mad  ?  Ain't  I  the  one 
ought  to  be  mad !  "  She  was  funny. 
This  mountain  is  the  finest  place  ever  created.  We 


100    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

have  wild  strawberries,  so  many  of  them  we  can  scarcely 
pick  them  all  and  when  we  do  pick  them  we  have  to 
tramp  a  lot  for  they  grow  so  thick.  We  get  enough  for 
Miss  Mary  and  the  girls  to  make  shortcake  for  all  hands 
• — mouths,  I  should  say.  Miss  Mary  could  make  food 
for  an  Irish  king.  I  never  saw  her  beat. 

Last  week  we  found  a  chewinks'  nest.  I  was  walking 
along  in  the  grass  when  a  brown  bird  flew  out  of  a  clump 
of  weeds  and  there  was  the  prettiest  nest  right  on  the 
ground.  Such  a  fuss  as  they  made !  Daddy  chewink 
came  with  his  black  hood  and  both  yelled  "  Chewink  " 
until  I  pitied  them  and  went  off.  Later  I  heard  him 
sing,  perched  way  up  in  a  tree  he  was,  and  he  called, 
"  Sweetheart,  I'm  here ! "  I  loved  him  for  that.  'But 
last  week  when  Miss  Hughes  took  me  to  the  Zoo  and  we 
were  in  the  bird  house  I  heard  that  same  "  Sweetheart, 
I'm  here ! "  And  when  I  looked,  there  in  a  corner  of  a 
big  cage  sat  a  melancholy  daddy  chewink,  without  his 
mate,  far  away  from  nests  and  green  woods  and  all  that 
he  loved.  I  could  have  cried  for  that  bird.  I  wanted 
to  steal  him  and  let  him  fly.  Is  there  anything  sadder 
than  a  caged  bird?  His  wings  useless,  those  wonderful 
wings  that  can  carry  him  soaring  among  the  clouds !  But 
I'm  forgetting — I'm  not  to  be  writing  anything  mournful, 
so  I  think  a  little  harder  and  decide  that  perhaps  the 
chewink  is  happier  there  in  the  cage  than  in  the  open. 
I  can  find  several  good  arguments  in  favor  of  that  theory 
— isn't  he  safer,  hasn't  he  food  brought  to  him  instead 
of  having  to  hunt  for  it — what  more  could  any  bird  want  ? 
That  chewink  is  a  darned  lucky  bird  if  he  only  knew  it ! 

Here's  some  news !  The  girls  of  this  reformatory  are 
making  good  citizens  out  in  the  world.  Miss  Hughes 
and  I  hunted  up  the  records  and  found  that  over  half  of 


AFTER  SIX  YEARS—MORE  LETTERS  101 

the  girls  parolled  have  gone  straight.  Sure,  father,  I'm 
in  the  right  half !  And  perhaps  there  is  still  some  good 
in  those  whom  we  counted  in  the  wrong  half.  You  have 
heard  of  the  people  who  wanted  to  stone  a  wicked  per- 
son and  were  told  that  the  privilege  of  throwing  the  first 
stone  belonged  to  the  one  who  was  without  sin.  If 
everybody  could  remember  that  story  and  profit  by  it 
wouldn't  this  whole  world  be  nice  as  Ireland  must  be ! 

I  told  you  once  about  writing  poetry.  Since  I  am 
older  I  feel  guilty  when  I  name  it  that,  but  I  do  some- 
times scribble  little  rhymes  and  jingles.  I 'have  kept  them 
all  in  a  little  book  so  that  no  literary  masterpiece  be 
carelessly  lost  to  the  world.  I  think  you  might  like  to 
read  some  of  my  attempts. 

"If  you  were  here,  if  you  were  here, 

Oh,  love,  what  happiness ! 
I  would  not  ask  that  you  should  cheer 

With  kisses  or  caress. 
But  just  to  sit  there  in  the  light 

And  let  me  look  a  while 
Into  your  eyes  and  read  all's  right, 

And  see  your  old  time  smile. 

"If  you  were  here  I'd  only  look 

Into  your  eyes  so  deep, 
As  blossoms  growing  by  the  brook 

Watch  o'er  their  shadows  keep. 
What  need  of  paltry  words  to  fling 

When  hearts  are  opened  wide  ? 
The  eyes  can  speak !    The  eyes  can  sing ! 

When  we  are  satisfied." 

I  thought  of  you  when  I  wrote  that,  father.  Hope 
you'll  like  it. 


102    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

I  am  having  great  fun  teaching  the  girls  new  songs. 
Miss  Fowler  taught  me  how  to  play  songs  and  hymns 
and  I've  had  more  pleasure  drumming  the  old  square 
piano  in  the  schoolroom  than  you  could  shake  a  stick  at. 
During  the  summer  when  the  teacher  is  away  I  take 
charge  of  the  music  at  prayers  and  sometimes  when  it 
is  raining  we  all  gather  in  the  schoolroom  and  sing.  I 
found  a  new  song  last  week.  It  goes  like  this,  part  of  it : 

"  O,  the  goal  of  the  world  is  joy, 

Joy  divine  that  is  born  of  love. 
Sorrows  are  wings  that  safe  convoy 
The  soul  to  the  fairer  realms  above." 

Don't  you  think  there  is  some  comfort  in  knowing  thut? 
Can  you  believe  it?  I  think  it  is  sometimes  almost  im- 
possible to  do  as  Tennyson  says,  "  Reach  a  hand  through 
time  to  catch  the  far-off  interest  of  tears  "  but  it  is  com- 
forting to  think  that  the  interest  is  there  for  us.  I  went 
to  church  yesterday  and  the  preacher  said  something  that 
made  me  think  of  you — Lazarus  had  his  sores  and  evil 
things  in  this  world,  and  perhaps  he  deserved  them,  but 
he  somehow  earned  good  things  in  the  other  world  and 
he  got  them  also. 

Miss  Hughes  and  I  are  coming  to  see  you  next  visiting 
day.  I  shall  be  so  glad  to  see  you  again — so  glad ! 

Until  then, 

SARAH. 

DEAR  FATHER: 

If  ever  I  needed  the  cheerfulness  of  the  Emerald 
Isle  folk  it  was  after  my  visit  to  you.  That  dreadful 
place!  And  you  have  lived  there  six  years, — it  makes 


AFTER  SIX  YEARS— MORE  LETTERS  103 

me  choke  and  have  the  funny  hurt  in  my  throat  like  I 
had  when  I  first  discovered  the  presence  of  a  conscience. 
The  only  thing  makes  the  matter  bearable  is  the  knowl- 
edge that  in  several  more  years  you'll  be  out,  counting 
the  time  off  for  good  behavior.  You'll  be  free,  free! 
The  first  thing  you  must  do  is  come  to  Sunset  Mountain 
and  stand  on  the  summit,  then  you'll  know  you  are  free 
at  last.  I  pitied  the  chewink  in  his  cage  at  the  Zoo — 
what  do  you  think  I  feel  for  you !  Of  course,  the  worst 
is  over.  Three  years  are  not  very  many  compared  with 
the  six  you  have  spent  there  already.  See,  I  can  find 
some  little  crumb  of  comfort.  I  knew  I  would  if  I  dug 
deep  enough.  It  took  me  ten  minutes  to  think  of  that 
but  I  have  Irish  ingenuity  and  kept  at  it. 

Father,  won't  you  tell  me  about  my  mother?  I  want 
so  to  know  who  she  was  and  whether  she  has  any  people. 
Of  course  I'm'  happy  here,  probably  happier  than  I 
should  be  with  her  relatives,  but  I  am  always  wondering 
who  I  am,  if  I  have  any  aunts,  uncles,  cousins  and  the 
like.  I  think  you  said  once  that  your  people  didn't  like 
my  mother.  If  that  is  so  I'd  like  to  have  a  chance  to 
tell  them  what  I  think  of  them!  Perhaps  it's  a  case  of 
"  better  let  sleeping  dogs  lie  "  and  I  might  be  sorry  if  I 
discovered  my  family.  Aunts  and  cousins  are  interfer- 
ing things,  at  any  rate,  so  I  don't  care  if  I  have  any  or 
not — sour  grapes ! 

Speaking  of  grapes,  we  have  wild  ones  on  our  moun- 
tain now  and  they  are  fine.  There's  an  old  stone  wall 
in  one  of  the  fields  near  the  house  and  it's  covered  with 
grapes,  those  little  ones  that  smell  as  good  as  they  taste. 
There  are  bittersweet  berries  on  that  same  wall  and  every 
fall  we  pick  them  and  have  them  in  the  house  all  winter. 
I  asked  Miss  Hughes  where  they  got  such  a  mixed  name 


104    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

— sounds  like  an  Irishman  named  them.  She  said  if  you 
chew  the  root  it  will  be  bitter  at  first,  then  change  to  a 
sweetish  taste.  And  she  added  that  life  is  very  often 
like  that.  I  say  the  world  missed  a  good  priest,  preacher 
or  rabbi  when  Miss  Hughes  was  born  a  woman.  She 
can  take  the  homeliest  thing  and  read  a  lesson  that  you'll 
like  and  remember. 

But  I  am  wondering  what  sweetness  even  she  could 
discover  in  an  experience  I  had  an  hour  ago.  Miss 
Hughes  went  to  the  city  and  Miss  Mary  and  I  were  left 
in  charge.  Early  in  the  afternoon  a  big  car  came  round 
the  driveway  and  a  woman,  fine  as  her  car,  stepped  out. 
It  was  up  to  me  to  find  out  what  she  wanted. 

Oh,  she  had  a  honeyed  voice !  "  May  I  see  the  matron, 
please  ?  " 

I  told  her  Miss  Hughes  was  out  and  would  not  return 
for  several  hours  but  I'd  be  glad  to  be  of  service. 

"  You  are  employed  here  ? "  she  looked  at  me  closely 
and  I  put  on  my  grandest  front  and  told  her  I  was,  that 
I  was  an  assistant — of  course  I  didn't  tell  her  it  was  in 
the  kitchen!  Was  afraid  she  would  be  permanently 
shocked  if  she  knew  she  were  talking  with  one  of  the 
cooks. 

She  informed  me  that  she  was  interested  in  child  wel- 
fare and  juvenile  court  reform  and  was  gathering  data 
for  a  book  on  the  subject,  so  it  would  be  a  great  favor 
if  I  should  be  kind  enough  to  supply  her  with  some  in- 
formation of  the  work  being  done  in  that  reformatory. 

I  assured  her  I  was  "  willing  as  Barkus "  and  we 
started  off  on  a  tour  of  the  place.  Thank  goodness  I 
look  older  than  I  am,  else  she  would  have  questioned  me 
more  closely. 

I  led  the  haughty  lady  about  in  the  big  building,  ex- 


AFTER  six  YEARS— MORE  LETTERS  105 

plained  the  work,  the  routine,  while  she  made  notes  in  a 
leather  bound  book  that  must  have  cost  more  than  a 
Bible.  "  The  girls  do  all  the  work — splendid  for  them, 
that  takes  some  of  the  villainy  from  them,  at  least  sup- 
presses it  for  a  time  " — she  added  her  comments  on  what 
I  told  her  as  she  wrote  the  information  in  the  little  book. 
"  They  clean,  sew,  cook,  bake,  wash  and  iron — what 
capital  servants  they  should  become!  Really,  my  dear, 
that  is  about  all  they  can  hope  to  become.  No  position 
of  trust  will  ever  be  open  for  reformatory  girls.  Um, 
the  hall  bears  evidence  of  indefatigable  labor."  She 
looked  at  the  big  hall,  which  was  always  polished  until 
it  shone  like  glass,  then  back  to  her  notes  once  more. 
"  Go  to  school  until  they  reach  the  eighth  grade — really 
more  than  they  need.  My  dear,  education  of  incorrigi- 
bles  merely  tends  to  increase  their  power  for  evil.  They 
are  taught  basketry,  sewing,,  and  spend  much  spare  time 
outdoors  studying  flowers  and  birds.  My  dear,  what  a 
mistake !  I  should  say  that  is  a  case  of  '  Pearls  before 
swine.'  Surely  they  do  not  appreciate  the  glories  of 
nature,  their  depraved  souls  are  sunken  too  low  for  that. 
It  is  a  great  pity." 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  pity,"  I  spoke  up.  The  woman  looked 
up  from  her  leather  bound  book  and  her  notes  about 
juvenile  reform.  My  face  must  have  looked  about  as 
peaceful  as  a  thunder  cloud.  "  It  is  a  pity,"  I  repeated, 
"  a  pity  that  in  all  this  great  big  world  with  its  thousands 
of  churches  and  people  who  frequent  them  there  are  so 
few  who  have  one  spark  of  sympathy  for  the  girls  who 
live  in  reformatories.  We  haven't  grown  very  far  above 
those  people  who  wanted  to  stone  the  sinner  long  ago, 
have  we  ?  Of  course  you  have  read  Tennyson's  '  Maud ' 
but  perhaps  you  have  forgotten  those  wonderful  lines : 


106    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

" '  Ah  yet,  we  cannot  be  kind  to  each  other  here  for  an 

hour; 
We  whisper,  and  hint,  and  chuckle,  and  grin  at  a 

brother's  shame ; 
However  we  brave  it  out,  we  men  are  a  little  breed.' 

What  right  has  one  person  to  judge  another?  How 
can  we  know  the  evil  influence  that  wrought  the  havoc 
in  the  life  of  any  one  of  these  girls?  Are  not  you  and 
I,  and  the  whole  race,  bound  by  infirmity  and  at  times 
yielding  to  evil?  Would  you  want  your  entire  life,  all 
its  action,  thoughts,  words,  photographed  and  displayed 
to  the  world?  Is  there  any  mortal  under  the  sky  who 
has  not  some  indiscretions  or  faults  or  weakness  they 
want  to  hide  from  the  gaze  of  the  curious  and  the  gos- 
siping? We  don't  like  to  admit  it,  it  is  so  much  more 
comfortable  to  our  minds  to  be  able  to  feel  above  the 
common  run  of  humanity,  but  I  wonder — I  wonder " 

"  My  dear,"  the  woman  said  wonderingly,  "  what  pe- 
culiar ideas  you  harbor!  It  is  unusual  for  a  young  girl 
to  have  that  view,  but  you  have  not  lived  long  enough 
to  have  an  opinion  of  value  to  us.  A  sheltered,  unso- 
phisticated girl  like  you  can't  have  any  possible  idea  of 
the  evil  in  the  world.  When  you  are  older  and  have 
seen  more  of  life " 

I  laughed,  rude  as  it  was.  I  had  to  laugh!  Then  I 
explained,  "  I  have  seen  life,  in  the  raw,  madam,  with  the 
varnish  all  licked  off  like  a  child's  toy." 

"  You  must  have  had  a  strange  education.  May  I  ask 
the  name  of  your  college  ?  " 

"  The  Slums  and  Reformatory,"  I  answered,  like  I 
was  naming  some  highfalutin'  thousand-dollars-a-year  se- 
lect school  for  girls. 

She  surveyed  me  through  her  glasses  as  though   I 


AFTER  SIX  YEARS— MORE  LETTERS  107 

were  speaking  Hindustan.  "  I  don't  think  I  under- 
stand." 

"  No,  you  don't,"  I  agreed  heartily.  "  Neither  do  you 
understand  any  other  reformatory  girls.  What  can  you 
know  about  Red  Rose  Court  and  worse  places!  Have 
you  ever  lived  in  the  slums?  I  am  one  of  the  girls  who 
can  never  hold  a  position  of  trust,  a  REFORMATORY  GIRL  !  " 

She  moved  away  from  me  as  though  afraid  to  breathe 
the  same  pestilential  air.  "  I  thought,  I  understood— 
you  gave  me  the  impression  you  were  employed  here." 

"  I  am.  But  I  was  committed  here  six  years  ago  as  an 
inmate.  Now  I  have  been  appointed  assistant  in  the 
kitchen."  I  faced  her  as  though  I  were  addressing  a 
regiment  of  soldiers  and  I  purposely  used  slang — "  You 
take  it  from  me,  there's  more  in  the  hearts  of  these  girls 
than  wickedness.  Some  of  them  are  headed  straight  for 
the  dogs  and  nothing  this  side  of  the  blue  sky  can  stop 
them,  but  some  of  them  still  have  a  glimmer  of  refine- 
ment, some  spark  of  divine  faith,  that  will  help  them  to 
conquer  themselves  and  crawl  from  the  pit  of  darkness 
to  the  light.  But  you  would  push  them  back,  wouldn't 
you?  I'm  thinking  that  darkness  where  there  is  going 
to  be  so  much  wailing  and  gnashing  of  teeth  will  hold 
some  who  were  not  in  a  reformatory.  But  I  beg  your 
pardon,  I  didn't  mean  to  interrupt  your  valuable  taking 
of  notes  about  juvenile  reform.  Is  there  anything  more 
I  could  tell  you  about  this  school  ?  " 

She  swept  her  lofty  eyes  over  me  as  though  I  were  a 
speck  of  dust  to  be  brushed  aside.  I  could  see  that  my 
eloquence  was  wasted  upon  her.  "  No,  I  thank  you," 
came  the  cold  reply.  "  I  have  all  the  essential  informa- 
tion. Good-afternoon." 

"  Good-afternoon,"  I  answered  back,  like  I  was  one 


108    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

of  those  stiff-necked  butlers  you  read  about  in  English 
books.  Then  I  bowed  her  out.  I  shut  the  door  and  did 
a  sailor's  hornpipe  and  told  myself  I  bet  I  gave  her 
something  in  her  bean  to  think  about.  But  I'm  wonder- 
ing now  whether  I  really  did.  She's  out  to  learn  the 
worst  about  us.  Her  taking  notes  about  reform — it's 
like  the  whiskered  rabbi  who  gave  a  beggar  a  quarter 
for  a  shave  and  the  latter  shoved  the  money  back  and 
said,  "  Keep  it  yourself,  boob,  you  need  it  worse  than  I 
do." 

You  called  me  your  ray  of  sunshine  when  I  was  there 
to  see  you.  How  I  wish  I  could  be  something  nice  like 
that  for  you !  Won't  you  think  about  the  thing  I  asked 
you  to  do  for  me — tell  me  about  my  mother  and  relatives  ? 
Guess  relatives  are  like  a  husband,  you  are  never  happy 
till  you  get  one  and  after  that  you  often  wish  you  had 
been  satisfied  without.  But  I'll  take  a  chance. 

With  love, 

SARAH. 

DEAR  FATHER: 

What  you  told  me  about  my  mother  made  me 
happy,  but  I  knew  without  being  told  that  she  was  the 
dearest  person  on  the  earth.  I  am  sorry  she  had  no 
people,  for  that  leaves  me  with  as  many  cousins  as  I  had 
before  you  told  me  about  her,  unless  there  are  some  of 
your  folks  still  living.  It  would  be  so  exciting  to  have 
a  new  family  suddenly  to  get  acquainted  with.  Are  you 
an  orphan  too?  It  would  be  too  bad  if  I  had  no  one  on 
either  side  of  the  house  to  be  proud  of  me  when  I  be- 
come famous  as  I  am  destined  to  do.  But  I  suppose  I 
could  very  easily  find  a  family  then,  some  distant  cousins. 
Miss  Hughes  and  I  went  to  Red  Rose  Court  the  day 


AFTER  SIX  YEARS— MORE  LETTERS  109 

before  Christmas  to  take  some  presents.  Oh,  father,  how 
could  we  ever  live  there?  The  squalor  and  pity  of  it! 
Poor  Mrs.  Maloney  has  a  second  husband  and  the  ninth 
baby  and  is  as  jolly  as  ever.  How  she  can  be  I  don't  see ; 
she  deserves  a  better  place  than  Red  Rose  Court.  We 
saw  a  ragged  little  girl  sitting  out  on  the  cold  curb  with 
a  baby  in  her  arms  and  I  shut  my  eyes  and  saw  myself 
six  years  ago.  I  have  been  fortunate,  I  saw  that  when 
we  went  back  to  that  dreadful  place.  Schlotzbergers 
moved  to  the  country  so  I  suppose  Jakey  is  happy.  But 
there  are  always  others  to  take  the  place  of  those  who 
leave.  I  suppose  Red  Rose  Court  will  stay  as  it  is  for- 
ever, the  same  dirty  place  with  miserable  people  in  it.  If 
some  persons  cleaned  it  up  would  it  stay  cleaned?  It 
made  me  heart  sick.  I  saw  what  I  escaped.  And  surely, 
even  the  place  you  have  been  these  years  is  not  worse 
than  that  old  home  of  ours.  But  home  is  too  fine  a 
word — hovel ! 

I  was  glad  to  get  back  to  our  mountain.  We  went  out 
for  our  Christmas  greens  that  same  day  so  I  could  get 
the  taste  of  Red  Rose  Court  out  of  my  mouth.  I  wish  I 
could  paint  Sunset  Mountain  as  it  was  then,  with  the 
white  snow  upon  it,  the  lovely  filigree  on  the  twigs  and 
weeds,  the  beauty  of  the  unsullied  white  flakes  as  they 
cover  everything  in  sight.  It  makes  you  want  to  forget 
there  is  any  place  as  unlovely  as  Red  Rose  Court. 

We  donned  sweaters,  caps  and  mittens  and  started  out. 
In  the  field  beyond  the  daisy  one  there  are  many  cedar 
and  pine  trees  and  there  we  cut  our  greens,  away  from 
the  road  where  the  stumps  won't  be  eyesores.  Among 
so  many  fine  trees  it  was  difficult  to  select  those  we  liked 
best  but  after  fussing  we  decided  and  started  to  saw. 
Back  and  forth  went  the  saw  in  the  hands  of  some  of  the 


110    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

oldest  girls,  eating  into  the  pungent  wood  of  the  cedar  or 
the  fragrant  heart  of  the  pine.  There  came  excited  cries 
to  clear  the  path,  the  trees  swayed,  and  as  we  shouted  and 
danced,  they  fell  to  the  snowy  ground.  As  each  tree  fell 
eager  hands  tugged  at  it  and  dragged  it  to  the  edge  of 
the  field. 

"  Oh,  look  at  that  crooked  little  cedar,"  exclaimed  one 
of  the  girls  and  pointed  to  a  tree  that  had  grown  in  a 
tangle  of  encroaching  branches  so  that  it  was  forced  to 
curve  and  grow  bent. 

"  Yes,"  some  of  Miss  Hughes'  philosophy  cropped 
out,  "  it  is  crooked,  but  it  had  a  hard  time  to  grow  even 
as  straight  as  it  has.  See  that  big  cedar  that  is  perfect, 
that  had  nothing  to  interfere  with  it,  to  make  it  go  in  the 
wrong  direction,  but  this  poor  little  one  was  almost 
choked  to  death." 

"  Ah,  poor  little  tree,"  cried  the  girls,  quick  to  pity. 
Perhaps  they  felt  an  intuitive  sympathy  for  the  struggling 
inhabitant  of  the  woods,  saw  their  own  lives  symbolized 
by  it.  "  Let's  take  it  home  and  trim  it  up  for  Christmas," 
suggested  one. 

So  we  cut  down  the  crooked  little  cedar  and  placed  it 
with  the  others.  Then  we  cut  pine  branches,  scratched 
away  the  snow  and  pulled  up  trailing  crowfoot  until  yards 
of  it  lay  in  a  heap  near  the  other  greens. 

"  Now,"  I  cried,  "  all  ready  for  the  homeward  march !  " 
If  I  could  paint  I'd  do  a  masterpiece,  Bringing  in  the 
Christmas  Greens.  It  was  a  picture.  Each  tree  was 
partly  lifted,  partly  dragged,  along  in  the  snowy  field. 
Some  of  the  girls  had  their  arms  filled  with  pine  boughs, 
others  trailed  the  crowfoot,  and  the  sunset  glow  came  up 
and  tinged  us  all  with  gold.  I  looked  at  the  girls,  their 
faces  were  ruddy  as  their  crimson  sweaters  and  caps. 


AFTER  SIX  YEARS— MORE  LETTERS  111 

We  worked  all  evening  putting  the  trees  and  greens 
into  place  in  the  big  sewing  room.  Miss  Hughes  and 
Miss  Mary  enjoyed  it  as  much  as  we  did.  The  teacher 
had  gone  home  for  the  holidays,  but  we  promised  to 
leave  the  decorations  so  she  can  see  them.  What  fun  we 
had  decorating  the  trees !  Pink  and  white  popcorn  Miss 
Mary  helped  us  pop  and  sugar  and  string,  paper  orna- 
ments the  teacher  taught  us  to  make,  a  few  balls  and  the 
like  left  over  from  previous  trees,  and  the  dear  little  angel 
Miss  Hughes  bought  for  the  top  branch.  On  the  crooked 
little  cedar  we  hung  our  gifts  for  each  other.  I  bet  Miss 
Hughes  received  no  less  than  two  dozen  pen  wipers  made 
from  braided  raffia  and  cloth — she  need  never  again  wipe 
a  pen  on  her  petticoat !  But  the  girls'  gifts  to  her,  crude 
and  home-made  though  they  were,  told  her  so  eloquently 
of  their  regard  for  her  that  it  brought  tears  to  her  eyes. 
Dear  Miss  Hughes,  she  is  the  nearest  thing  I  know  to  a 
mother.  If  a  real  mother  could  bring  greater  joy  to  me 
then  I'd  have  to  enlarge  my  heart  to  hold  it  all.  Miss 
Hughes  and  Miss  Mary  gave  each  girl  a  box  of  candy 
and  if  you  had  ever  been  a  girl  with  a  sweet  tooth  and 
shut  in  a  place  where  never  a  snitch  of  candy  reached  you 
then  you  could  know  how  every  girl  shouted  at  the  gift. 
Everybody  seemed  to  have  the  Christmas  spirit.  I  had  a 
lovely  day  with  the  rest,  but  that  night  as  I  left  the  school- 
room after  prayers  and  sat  a  while  in  the  sitting-room 
with  Miss  Hughes  and  Miss  Mary — I'm  privileged  now, 
being  an  employee — I  felt  depressed,  all  the  Irish  cheer- 
fulness drowned  in  unhappiness. 

"  Sarah,  aren't  you  happy  ?  "  Miss  Hughes  asked  me. 

"  Why "  I  tried  to  lie,  but  I  couldn't  do  it  when 

she  looked  at  me.  Instead  I  had  to  bite  my  lips  to  keep 
the  tears  back.  Seemed  like  I  was  all  teary  and  sobby,  a 


112    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

whole  ocean  inside  of  me  wanting  to  get  spilled.  "  Oh," 
I  said  after  a  little,  "  how  can  I  be  really  happy  ?  You 
are  lovely  to  me,  the  girls,  too  —  everybody !  Don't 
think  I'm  ungrateful  for  all  you  have  done  and  are  doing 
for  me,  but  I  seem  to  always  want  more,  just  one  thing 
more.  I'm  wanting  a  home,  a  real  home,  with  my  own 
people  in  it  to  love  me  and  fix  me  a  tree,  even  if  it's  the 
meanest  tree  in  the  world,  and  to  give  me  presents  on 
Christmas  though  a  kiss  were  all  they  could  afford  to 
give.  It's  that  I'm  wanting.  And  I  guess  it's  that  I'll 
never  get." 

Miss  Hughes  smiled,  then  was  serious  and  dear. 
"  Never's  a  long  time,  Sarah,  a  long,  long  time.  But  I 
think  you'll  get  all  those  things  some  day.  A  home  is 
different  from  an  institution,  God  bless  us,  yes !  "  I  think 
she  must  have  been  thinking  of  her  own  childhood  for  her 
eyes  were  starry  when  she  looked  at  me  again. 

"  Sarah,  you  have  a  right  to  know  whether  you  have 
any  other  relatives  besides  your  father.  You  are  a  young 
lady  now,  and  it  is  not  right  to  keep  you  here  if  you  have 
people  who  would  be  glad  to  have  you.  You  were  made 
for  a  home,  a  happy  home  with  all  its  love.  If  your  fa- 
ther should  die  without  telling  you  just  who  you  are  and 
where  you  come  from  it  would  haunt  you  all  your  days ; 
there  would  be  that  mystery  to  darken  your  life.  I  sup- 
pose your  father  has  never  thought  of  it  from  that  angle. 
I  am  going  to  see  him  and  talk  it  over."  So,  father,  when 
Miss  Hughes  comes  to  see  you,  please  listen  to  her.  She's 
a  pretty  good  arguer,  though.  Bet  she  could  sell  an  Es- 
kimo a  fan  if  she  set  out  to  do  it.  But,  father,  be  ready 
for  her  and  do  as  she  asks  you.  Let  it  be  my  Christmas 
present  from  my  father.  If  I  don't  like  my  relatives 
after  I  have  them  trust  me  to  shake  the  dust  of  them 


AFTER  SIX  YEARS— MORE  LETTERS  113 

from  my  feet.     Perhaps  they  would  be  glad  to  have  me 
live  with  them  and  know  how  to  act  in  a  real  home,  then 
when  you  come  out  to  me  and  we  have  that  little  home 
together  I'll  know  just  how  to  do.     Please,  please ! 
With  love, 

SARAH  (poor  lonely  girl  without  a 
home.     Pity  the  homeless). 


CHAPTER  VH 
REVELATIONS  OF  SARAH'S  FATHER 

DEAR  SARAH  : 

Your  last  letter  woke  me  up.  It  is  your  right  to 
know  who  and  where  your  people  are.  Heaven  knows  I 
have  sinned  enough  against  you  without  adding  another 
black  mark.  All  these  years  I  have  kept  the  thing  from 
you,  but  I  am  going  to  tell  you  the  names  and  addresses 
of  your  aunts  and  grandfather.  Once,  long  ago,  I  was  a 
boy  who  went  to  Sunday  school  and  there  I  learned  about 
Pilate  who  was  going  to  commit  a  crime  and  washed  his 
hands  first,  hoping  to  keep  the  stain  of  it  from  him,  but 
all  the  water  in  the  world  couldn't  keep  his  hands  clean 
when  he  sinned.  So  I  have  tried  to  keep  you  in  igno- 
rance, hoping  that  I  might  escape  some  of  the  condemna- 
tion I  deserve,  but  I  see  now  that  it  is  only  right  to  tell 
you.  Then  you  have  the  privilege  of  ignoring  the  revela- 
tion and  forgetting  all  about  your  relatives  or  of  going  to 
them  and  see  what  manner  of  people  you  have. 

I  told  you  the  truth  when  I  said  your  mother  was  an 
orphan  and  has  not,  to  my  knowledge,  one  relative  near 
enough  to  be  called  that.  She  lost  her  parents  at  an  early 
age,  was  taken  care  of — if  you  can  dignify  it  by  that 
phrase — by  a  distant  cousin,  shoved  into  the  world  upon 
her  own  resources  at  fourteen.  After  a  checkered  ca- 
reer, checkered  only  in  variety  of  experiences,  not  with 


REVELATIONS  OF  SARAH'S  FATHER    115 

sin,  she  went  on  the  stage.  She  had  a  natural  talent  for 
dancing  and  singing;  anything  that  rhymed  appealed  to 
her.  That  is  where  you  get  your  love  for  music  and 
poetry,  I  suppose. 

She  was  Irish,  pure  and  sweet  as  a  daisy,  and  when  I 
met  her — but  I  am  getting  ahead  of  my  story.  You  want 
to  know  about  me — I  am  Pennsylvania  Dutch.  That 
means  nothing  to  you,  for  there  are  no  settlements  of 
them  in  the  part  of  the  country  where  you  live,  but 
briefly:  there  are  in  Pennsylvania  some  sections  of  coun- 
try where  the  majority  of  the  inhabitants  cling  to  a  quaint 
old  dialect,  half  English,  partly  German,  the  remainder 
hodge-podge — Swiss,  Dutch — I  don't  know  just  what. 
It's  a  queer  language  and  their  English  is  usually  flavored 
with  its  accent,  idioms,  expressions,  and  substitution  of 
w  for  v  and  d  for  t,  so  that  it  is  easy  to  distinguish  the 
Pennsylvania  Dutch,  especially  to  those  who  have  lived 
in  that  section.  But  many  of  them  speak  English  per- 
fectly these  days ;  education,  reading,  study,  have  brought 
them  what  their  grandparents  never  had.  Among  the 
Pennsylvania  Dutch  are  numerous  religious  sects  called 
plain  people.  They  are  called  that  because  their  religion 
calls  for  a  distinctive  form  of  dress,  extremely  plain  and 
not  conforming  to  the  fashions  and  vanities  of  the  world. 
These  plain  people  are  called  Mennonites,  Amish,  River 
Brethren,  Brethren,  and  a  half  dozen  similar  names. 
There  are  some  points  of  difference  but  all  are  character- 
ized by  plainness  of  dressing  and  living,  avoidance  of  all 
frivolity  and  worldliness,  such  as  dancing,  card  playing, 
attendance  at  theatres  or  motion  pictures. 

I  was  born  and  raised  in  such  a  peaceful  atmosphere. 
My  mother,  father,  aunts,  grandparents,  cousins,  and  two 
sisters  were  Mennonites,  the  women  wearing  the  plain 


116        THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB; 

garb  something  like  the  Quakers'  of  whom  you  must  have 
studied  in  school,  and  the  men  also  dressed  in  plain  suits 
and  broad-brimmed  hats  to  distinguish  them  from  the 
worldly. 

My  mother — I  want  to  say  it  now  so  you  won't  ever 
forget  it — my  mother  was  the  dearest  mother  in  the 
world!  If  she  had  lived — well,  ever  since  Adam  we  like 
to  shift  the  blame  on  other  shoulders,  but  I  am  sure  that 
if  she  had  lived  your  life  and  mine  would  have  been 
vastly  different. 

I  had  a  boyhood  busy,  happy,  care-  free,  like  many  other 
children  in  that  section  of  the  country.  My  father  owned 
a  big  hardware  store  and  was  reputed  to  be  "  well-off," 
as  they  say  up  there.  Surely  I  had  many  good  times, 
some  healthy  exercise  working,  and  no  more  troubles  than 
most  boys.  My  father  was  a  quiet,  sober  man.  I  can't 
remember  seeing  him  play  with  his  children  or  bouncing 
them  on  his  knees.  But  he  was  good  to  us,  provided  us 
with  comforts  and  never  objected  to  buying  books  or  any- 
thing necessary  for  school-work.  Besides  being  serious 
he  was  strict  as  a  judge  when  it  came  to  keeping  the  Sab- 
bath, attending  church  service,  dealing  fairly  with  neigh- 
bors, helping  people  in  trouble.  There  was  no  possible 
way  of  escaping  his  dictates.  Other  boys  I  knew  fooled 
their  fathers  sometimes  and  managed  to  get  out  of  doing 
chores  or  going  to  church,  but  I  never  could  do  that  with 
mine.  Sunday  was  the  Lord's  Day  and  he  ordered  it 
kept  as  he  thought  it  should  be  and  we  kept  it  so.  We 
could  spend  the  odd  hours  of  it  in  quiet  conversation, 
serious  reading  or  visiting  in  families  where  he  knew  the 
holiness  of  the  day  would  be  observed.  I  sat  during 
many  long  hours  in  the  Mennonite  church,  my  feet 
swinging,  my  back  tired  from  the  hard  wooden  benches — 


REVELATIONS  OF  SARAH'S  FATHER    117 

Mennonites  leave  cushioned  pews  for  the  easy-going 
Christians. 

Narrow,  uncompromising  as  father  was  in  religious 
matters,  he  was  liberal  enough  in  others.  When  I  asked 
him  to  send  me  to  school  so  I  could  become  a  trained 
mechanic  he  consented  without  any  arguments.  He'd 
educate  me  and  after  I  earned  money  I  could  pay  it  back 
so  that  my  sisters  might  fare  as  well  as  I.  I  went  off  to 
Philadelphia  to  school,  a  happy  young  man,  looking  for- 
ward to  a  bright  future,  a  useful  life  of  which  my  parents 
would  be  proud. 

The  last  year  of  my  stay  in  the  city  I  met  your  mother. 
She  was,  as  I  told  you,  an  actress.  Now,  all  my  life  I 
had  been  taught  that  absolutely  everything  connected 
with  the  stage  and  footlights  was  utterly  wrong,  evil,  to 
be  shunned  by  all  except  the  wicked  and  depraved  who 
did  not  care  for  the  safety  of  their  souls.  My  parents' 
religion  strictly  forbids  attendance  at  theatres  or  dances. 
All  that  had  been  drummed  into  my  brain  from  the  cradle 
but  when  I  met  your  mother  at  a  boarding-house  where 
she  was  respected  and  loved,  something  seemed  to  call  to 
me,  something  stronger  than  the  teachings  and  warnings 
of  my  father,  even  stronger  than  the  pleadings  of  my 
mother.  I  was  of  another  generation  from  the  old  folks 
in  the  little  town  up-state.  My  few  years  in  the  city  had 
taught  me  to  smile  in  amusement  at  some  of  the  stand- 
ards set  up  there,  and  I  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
surely  some  of  the  theatrical  profession  must  be  good. 
So  when  I  found  myself  in  love  with  your  mother — her 
name  was  Sarah,  too — and  learned  to  my  delight  that  she 
had  the  same  feeling  for  me,  I  was  as  happy  as  though 
she  had  been  a  girl  from  home  in  a  plain  Mennonite 
dress.  Of  course,  I  was  a  bit  troubled  about  the  opinion 


118    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

of  my  people,  but  never  for  one  minute  was  I  ready  to 
sacrifice  our  happiness  for  the  prejudices  of  father  or 
mother.  For  a  time  we  kept  our  love  secret.  I  had  some 
foreboding  of  what  my  father  would  say,  but  I  hoped,  as 
lovers  always  do,  that  his  objections  would  be  driven 
away  when  he  met  Sarah. 

When  my  course  of  study  was  completed  I  went  home, 
ready  to  tell  all  about  my  happiness  and  waiting  to  be 
asked  to  bring  to  them  the  girl  I  had  chosen.  The  first 
day  father  called  me  to  the  parlor  for  a  talk.  That  was 
unusual  for  him,  for  he  was  not  a  talkative  man.  I  can 
see  him  now  with  his  big  frame  in  the  plain  gray  Men- 
nonite  suit,  his  hair  parted,  his  face  strong  as  the  painting 
of  a  prophet,  a  glint  of  hardness,  sternness,  righteousness, 
in  his  eyes. 

"  Jeremiah," — he  never  shortened  the  name — "  now 
you  are  done  school  and  ready  to  earn  your  own  living; 
your  mother  and  I  talked  it  over  and  we  hope  you  will 
find  you  some  nice  Mennonite  girl  to  marry  and  then  set- 
tle down  and  be  a  man.  We  hope  you  can  find  it  in  your 
heart  to  come  in  the  church.  Your  sisters  done  so  a'ready 
but  you  say  you  ain't  ready.  But  now,  surely,  Jeremiah, 
when  you  get  grown  up  to  a  man  you  can  take  your  place 
with  the  others  in  the  family.  All  your  cousins  went  in 
the  Mennonite  church  last  fall  a'ready  and  you  still  hang 
back.  I  don't  believe  forcing  children  to  such  things, 
but  I  thought  mebbe  if  I  say  something  it  will  help  you 
to  see  the  light.  Getting  a  nice  Mennonite  girl  for  wife 
will  help  you  keep  in  the  right  way.  If  you  want  to 
marry  and  settle  down  somewhere  out  of  Fairview  we 
don't  care  so  much.  I  can  set  you  up  in  business  or  loan 
you  money  for  a  start.  Mebbe  Lancaster  or  Lebanon 
.would  be  more  for  you  than  this  little  town.  Just  so  you 


REVELATIONS  OF  SARAH'S  FATHER    119 

don't  go  too  far  away  for  your  mom  is  growing  older 
every  day  and  you  being  the  only  boy  she  has  her  heart 
set  on  your  staying  pretty  close.  Come  now,  Jeremiah," 
a  smile  wrinkled  the  corners  of  his  eyes,  "  haven't  you 
seen  yet  a  nice  Mennonite  girl  you  want  to  marry  ?  " 

I  thought  of  Sarah,  dancing,  playing  a  joyous  part  be- 
hind the  footlights  and  my  courage  oozed  away  like  water 
through  the  fingers.  Perhaps  I  groaned,  for  father 
looked  at  me  with  eyes  I  never  could  deceive  and  asked, 
"  You  found  the  girl  in  the  city  ?  " 

I  nodded,  then  rose  and  asserted  myself.  "  Father,  I 
found  the  girl !  I  am  going  to  marry  her.  All  I  need  is 
your  consent  and  mother's  and  an  invitation  to  bring  her 
here  for  you  to  meet.  You'll  love  her,  she's  a  dear,  sweet 
girl.  All  she  wants  is  a  chance  to  win  your  love,  to  get 
acquainted,  and  you  can't  help  liking  her." 

"  Who  is  she  ?  "     Father  rarely  showed  excitement. 

"  Sarah  Galleghar.  She's  lovely,  but  all  her  life  has 
been  so  hard.  She's  absolutely  alone  in  the  world,  had  to 
hoe  her  own  row  since  she  was  fourteen." 

"  What  does  she  work  ?  " 

"  She's  an  actress." 

Well,  if  I  had  uttered  the  most  depraved  word  in  the 
whole  language  he  could  not  have  looked  at  me  with  a 
greater  expression  of  horror.  It  left  him  speechless  for 
a  minute.  Then  he  rose,  his  mighty  body  seemed  afire 
with  passion  and  I  never  heard,  before  or  since,  words 
that  seemed  to  burn  like  his.  "  Jeremiah,"  he  thundered, 
"  are  you  a  son  of  mine  ?  You  dare  to  stand  down  there 
and  tell  me  that  you  love  an  actress — a  low-down  dancing 
fool  that  knows  nothing  but  wickedness  ?  " 

"  Father ! "  I  tried  to  stop  him  but  he  went  on  ruth- 
lessly. 


120    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

"  You — Jeremiah  Burkhart,  with  your  mother  wearing 
a  plain  dress  and  white  cap  and  a  father  that  had  always 
tried  to  show  his  children  the  straight  and  narrow  way — 
you,  my  own  flesh  and  blood,  to  know,  even  to  know  an 
actress,  and  then  to  say  you  love  her  and  want  to  marry 
her !  I  wonder  the  Lord  don't  strike  you  dumb !  I  won- 
der you  stop  to  marry  her — they  don't  often  bother  doing 
that."  Oh,  father  could  be  withering  in  his  wrath  and 
scorn ! 

But  some  of  the  Burkhart  fire  dwelt  in  me.  He  went 
too  far  when  he  said  such  things  about  the  girl  I  loved 
and  knew  to  be  pure.  I  stepped  before  him  and  shook 
my  fist  in  his  livid  face.  "  You  say  another  word  against 
that  girl  and  I'll,  by  heaven,  I'll " 

"  Go  on,"  he  dared  me.  "  To  strike  me  would  be  so 
much  kinder  than  to  tell  me  you  want  to  marry  an 
actress." 

I  sank  into  a  chair.  I  was  weak,  as  always,  quick  to 
dare,  but  lacking  courage  to  keep  up  the  fight.  "  She's  as 
good  as  any  girl  in  Lancaster  County,"  I  blurted,  "  as 
good  as  any  Mennonite  girl  or  any  other.  I  know  she  is ! 
You  have  no  right  to  condemn  her  without  knowing  her 
or  even  meeting  her." 

My  father's  anger  had  cooled  by  that  time  and  he 
looked  at  me  with  something  like  pity  for  my  weakness. 
"  Jeremiah,"  he  said  slowly,  "  you  are  going  in  this  thing 
with  your  eyes  shut.  You  do  not  stop  to  think  what  it 
will  mean  to  bring  a  woman  like  that  here,  to  have  her  be 
a  sister  to  your  sisters,  a  daughter  to  your  mother.  You 
have  been  taught  something  about  the  evil  in  the  world, 
and  I  thought  your  time  spent  in  the  big  city  would  show 
you  how  much  better  it  is  to  forsake  the  vanities  of  the 
wicked.  But  you  must  know  that  what  is  wrong  can't 


REVELATIONS  OF  SARAH'S  FATHER    121 

ever  be  called  right  and  then  be  right  because  it  is  called 
so.  Dancing  and  such  things  are  the  work  of  the  devil, 
and  woe  to  those  who  follow  after  the  darkness !  You 
mind  what  dreadful  things  happened  because  that  girl 
danced  before  Herod.  What  good  has  ever  come  out  of 
dancing?  Would  you  want  your  sisters  to  marry  men 
who  danced  and  acted  on  the  stage  ?  " 

"If  they  were  as  good  and  fine  as  Sarah,  yes !  " 

He  shook  his  head.  "  What  have  I  done  to  have  a  son 
like  you?"  The  next  moment  his  wrath  flamed  again. 
"  I  tell  you,"  he  thundered,  "  I'd  rather  bury  you  than  see 
you  married  to  a  woman  like  that,  an  actress,  a  dancer! 
A  disgrace  you'll  be  to  the  whole  f reundschaf t !  There 
never  was  a  Burkhart  done  a  thing  like  that !  All  I  got 
to  say  is  that  she'll  never  sit  at  my  table !  I'll  have  none 
of  her  kind  for  my  daughter !  " 

"  You  don't  believe  in  eating  with  publicans  and  sin- 
ners ?  "  I  sneered. 

"  No.  Not  unless  they  repent  of  their  wickedness  and 
become  converted,"  he  replied  unflinchingly.  "  Your 
mother  and  I  will  pray  that  she  may  do  that." 

"  Save  your  breath,"  I  told  him.  "  I  don't  want  Sarah 
to  turn  Mennonite."  I  thought  of  her,  pretty,  liking  nice 
clothes,  her  toes  tingling  at  every  strain  of  music — could 
they  make  a  Quaker-like  little  Mennonite  of  her  ?  Never ! 

"  I  am  going  to  marry  her  just  as  she  is !"  I  announced, 
"  and  be  proud  to  do  so ! "  I  delivered  my  ultimatum 
and  left  my  father.  He  refrained  from  replying;  words 
must  have  failed  him  once  more  as  he  pondered  upon  the 
heretical  sayings  and  contemplated  downward  step  of  his 
son. 

My  mother  said  less,  nothing  cruel  or  stinging,  but  I 
read  horror  and  unhappiness  on  her  face  when  I  met  her 
later.  Father  had  told  her  all  the  sorrowful  tale,  embel- 


122    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

lished,  I  suppose,  with  his  opinion  of  the  wretched  mat- 
ter. She  felt  keenly  the  disgrace  I  was  going  to  bring 
upon  them. 

"  Jerry,"  she  made  the  name  soft  and  sweet  as  she  had 
always  done,  and  as  I  looked  into  her  face  with  its  halo 
of  white  Mennonite  cap  and  read  the  sorrow  in  her  heart, 
I  would  have  given  up  anything  in  the  world  to  please  her 
except  the  one  thing  she  wanted  me  to — the  girl  I  loved. 
She  took  my  face  between  her  hands  as  she  had  so  often 
done  when  I  was  a  child  and  she  wanted  to  impress  some- 
thing upon  me  or  sought  to  question  me.  "  Jerry,"  she 
said  sadly,  "  you  must  see  that  a  girl  like  that  is  not  for 
you,  she  is  of  another  world.  Can't  you  forget  her  and 
find  some  nice  plain  girl  from  Fairview  or  near  here  ?  " 

"  I  can't,  mother.  I  love  her  and  what  right  has  any- 
body to  come  between  us?  She's  such  a  sweet,  frail 
thing ;  never  had  anybody  really  care  for  her,  and  she  has 
kept  straight  in  surroundings  that  many  of  the  good  girls 
from  the  country  would  have  found  too  much  for  them. 
I  can't  give  her  up." 

My  mother  looked  at  me  for  a  while,  then  she  must 
have  read  my  very  heart.  She  dropped  her  hands  from 
my  cheeks  and  laid  them  on  my  shoulders.  "  Jerry,"  she 
said,  and  I  can  hear  her  yet,  "  Jerry,  I  see  you  mean  it. 
It  is  beyond  our  power  to  change  things  and  perhaps  you 
are  right  when  you  say  no  person  has  a  right  to  come  be- 
tween you.  If  that's  the  way  you  care  for  her  and  she 
for  you  you  can't  do  anything  but  get  married.  We'll 
pray  the  Lord  to  change  her  heart  and  make  her  one  of 
us.  Whoever  you  marry  I'll  love,  Jerry.  She'll  be  my 
daughter.  Poor  child,  not  to  know  a  mother's  love  and 
care — poor  girl — I'll  try  to  make  it  up  to  her." 

I  remember  I  cried  then  and  she  comforted  me,  though 


REVELATIONS  OF  SARAH'S  FATHER    123 

I  felt  that  the  world  was  once  more  a  good  place.  But 
when  my  fit  of  weeping  was  over  I  thought  of  father. 
"  Father "  I  said  to  her. 

"  Yes,  Jerry,  your  father  is  so  strong  in  his  belief  that 
it  will  be  hard  to  make  him  see.  But  we'll  hope  that  in 
time  he  will  think  of  her  as  a  daughter.  Perhaps  we  can 
show  the  light  to  the  poor  girl." 

But  father  did  not  see  the  light.  He  was  firm  and 
frank.  "  No  play-actress  and  dancer,  except  a  converted 
one,  comes  in  my  house !  "  was  the  final  verdict  of  the  big 
man  who  was  so  good  himself  in  his  narrow  way  that  he 
had  no  patience  with  offenders.  "If  you  marry  her 
you'll  be  a  disgrace  to  the  family^  to  the  whole  town, 
forever ! " 

I  said  good-bye  to  mother  and  went  back  to  the  city 
and  several  days  later  I  married  the  woman  I  loved. 
Only  after  we  were  married  did  I  tell  her  about  my  fa- 
ther's attitude,  for  I  was  afraid  if  she  knew  it  before  she 
would  think  it  her  duty  to  give  me  up.  She  was  hurt, 
poor  girl,  poor  motherless  girl  who  had  been  buffeted 
about  like  a  leaf  in  the  storm  and  thought  she  had  found 
a  safe  place  at  last,  only  to  discover  that  she  was  unwel- 
come in  the  family.  She  couldn't  understand  the  attitude 
of  the  people  who  are  opposed  to  her  profession,  she  was 
so  sure  that  her  life  had  been  as  blameless  -as  a  baby's  and 
could  not  fathom  why  any  man  should  sit  in  judgment 
upon  her.  But  there  was  a  haughtiness  about  her,  too, 
for  all  her  childlikeness,  and  she  would  not  go  to  my 
home  to  meet  my  mother.  "  I  can't  bear  being  pointed  at 
and  called  bad,  or  to  be  ordered  out  of  the  house.  That 
would  be  so  much  harder  than  to  stay  away.  We'll  just 
cling  together  and  long  as  you  like  me  I'll  manage  to  get 
along,"  she  said  in  her  Irish  teasing  way.  "  But  ask  your 


124    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

mother  to  came  make  us  a  visit.  I  know  I'll  love  her  like 
me  own  mother,  so  ask  her  soon,  Jerry.  I  want  to  thank 
her  for  you." 

But  my  mother,  partly  from  worry,  I  suppose,  but 
chiefly  from  a  long-standing  trouble,  was  taken  suddenly 
ill  and  before  I  could  get  to  her  she  died.  Your  mother 
would  not  go  back  with  me  then,  for  she  said  they  would 
make  her  feel  like  a  murderess,  so  I  went  alone.  I  didn't 
get  a  cordial  welcome.  My  father  would  not  tell  me  that 
I  was  the  cause  of  my  mother's  death,  but  he  acted  it  and 
I  felt  it  burning  in  his  eyes  every  time  he  looked  at  me. 
He  was  a  broken  man  but  he  hid  it,  as  men  of  his  nature 
do,  by  gruffness  and  a  greater  drawing  within  himself.  I 
went  back  to  the  city,  knowing  that  my  chances  for  for- 
giveness were  scantier  than  ever.  My  two  sisters  kept 
house  for  him  and  I  knew  they  did  not  relish  having  me 
around.  Sybilla  was  just  like  father  and  told  me  what 
she  thought  of  my  disgraceful  actions,  but  Mary,  bless 
her  heart,  was  like  mother,  and  though  she  did  not  say 
much  I  saw  she  was  sorry  for  me  and  would  have  helped 
me  if  she  could. 

"  I  am  done  with  you  for  good,"  my  father  said  to  me 
as  I  came  away  from  my  home  after  my  mother  was  laid 
away  in  the  pretty  little  cemetery  where  the  wild  straw- 
berries grow  and  the  graveyard  pinks  carpet  the  whole 
place  in  the  spring.  I  took  him  at  his  word  and  went 
back  to  my  wife.  We  moved  to  New  Jersey,  getting  out 
of  touch  completely  with  the  little  Pennsylvania  Dutch 
town  where  I  was  born  and  had  lived  so  many  years. 
There  were  few  in  the  place  who  cared  for  me  or  dared 
show  it  if  they  did.  My  old  friends  and  relatives  felt 
that  I  was  a  disgrace,  gone  to  the  bad,  married  an  actress, 
broke  my  mother's  heart,  gone  against  my  father's  wishes, 


REVELATIONS  OF  SARAH'S  FATHER    125 

thrown  away  my  chances  for  a  bright  future  as  though 
they  were  so  many  sticks,  dragged  the  good  name  of 
Burkhart  down  in  the  mud — what  greater  criminal  could 
I  be? 

So  the  last  cords  with  the  old  home  were  broken  when 
my  mother  died.  Your  mother  made  it  up  to  me  so  far 
as  anything  like  that  can  be  made  up.  She  and  I  were 
happy.  I  worked  for  her  and  she  kept  the  home  like  a 
new  pin.  It  was  fun  to  watch  her,  see  her  enjoy  every 
little  bit  of  the  home  life.  I  never  regretted  my  marriage 
to  her.  She  was  all  that  I  had  hoped  for,  and  more — 
sweet,  unspoiled.  When  you  came  our  little  home  be- 
came a  Paradise.  You  were  so  like  her,  laughing,  sunny, 
smiling.  As  soon  as  you  walked  you  tripped  about  like  a 
dancer  and  sang  like  the  birds.  Your  mother  took  such 
great  -joy  in  you,  sewed  pretty  things,  taught  you  to  sing, 
sang  you  to  sleep — I  have  often  been  sorry  that  you  could 
not  remember  those  days. 

When  you  were  two  years  old  she  died.  Child,  it 
doesn't  take  long  to  write  that  line,  but  oh,  what  it  meant 
to  me !  The  world  went  black  for  me.  What  was  left  ? 
Could  I  go  back  to  the  old  town  where  my  sisters  and 
father  lived  and  where  my  fancied  disgrace  was  still  re- 
membered ?  Could  I  remain  in  the  big  city  and  face  life 
alone,  with  only  you  to  comfort  me  ?  I  was  almost  mad, 
altogether,  I  think,  for  a  time.  I  sold  everything,  and 
started  off  with  you  on  my  arm.  I  think  I  intended  to 
take  you  to  my  sisters  and  then  disappear,  wander  to  the 
ends  of  the  earth.  We  tramped  on  a  country  road.  I 
remember  as  in  a  dream.  We  must  have  gone  miles,  you 
on  my  arm  and  walking  at  times  until  you  said  you  were 
too  tired.  We  rested  along  the  road,  then  off  again,  not 
knowing  just  where  we  were  going.  I  have  recollections 


126        THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURfi 

of  stopping  at  a  farmhouse  and  getting  milk,  and  once  a 
man  thought  I  was  a  kidnapper,  but  you  saved  me  by 
telling  that  I  was  your  very  own  daddy  and  we  were  go- 
ing to  aunties  and  grandfather  far  away.  After  a  while 
we  came  to  the  edge  of  a  city,  and  I  think  I  must  have 
been  thoroughly  unbalanced  or  fevered,  for  we  stumbled 
along — my  mind  went  blank  and  I  remembered  nothing 
more  until  I  came  to  in  a  little  room.  A  woman  brought 
you  in  to  me  and  you  were  so  glad  I  woke  up  that  you 
cried  and  kissed  me.  How  like  your  mother  you  have 
always  been !  The  woman  said  I  had  fallen  at  her  door 
and  you  cried  and  brought  them  out.  She  was  a  widow 
and  lived  with  her  mother  in  a  poor  but  respectable  sec- 
tion of  a  big  city  in  New  Jersey. 

I  didn't  care  to  get  well,  but  after  several  months  I  was 
all  right  again.  Then  a  dullness,  like  sleep,  seemed  to  be 
upon  my  spirit.  I  hadn't  enough  ambition  to  get  out  and 
go  on  with  you.  We  might  as  well  stay  where  we  were 
for  a  while  until  I  felt  better  able  to  face  the  condemning 
glances  of  the  people  in  the  little  town  back  home.  The 
two  women  were  kind  to  us,  took  fine  care  of  you  while  I 
dragged  out  to  work,  and  we  boarded  with  them  for  sev- 
eral years.  I  knew  it  were  better  to  take  you  to  your 
aunts,  but  somehow  I  could  never  bear  the  thought  of 
losing  you.  It  was  like  putting  from  me  the  last  thing 
left  of  your  adored  mother.  Then  the  mother  of  the 
young  woman  died  and  I  knew  that  we  would  have  to  go 
unless  I  married  the  daughter.  I  did  it,  God  forgive  me, 
for  I  married  her  when  I  had  not  one  shred  of  love  to 
give  her.  But  I  got  all  the  punishment  I  deserved,  for 
she  soon  made  it  plain  that  she  cared  for  me  only  as  I 
earned  money.  She  spent  it  faster  than  I  could  bring  it 
home,  but  I  was  married  to  her  and  after  that  I  could  not 


REVELATIONS  OF  SARAH'S  FATHER    127 

go  back  home.  So  we  stayed  on,  going  from  bad  to 
worse,  moving  from  one  neighborhood  to  another  not 
quite  so  clean  and  nice,  until  at  last  in  desperation  we 
landed  in  Red  Rose  Court.  One  day  she  brought  out  a 
counterfeiter's  outfit,  left  in  the  house  by  some  one  who 
had  to  make  a  hasty  getaway,  I  suppose.  I  fooled  with 
the  thing  just  in  fun  at  first,  then  when  I  saw  what  I 
could  do  with  it  it  got  me.  I  always  was  handy  with 
tinkering  and  when  it  brought  me  money  so  like  the  real 
that  it  fooled  most  everybody,  I  let  myself  spend  more 
and  more  time  in  that  little  room  back  of  the  closet;  a 
mania  seized  me,  I  didn't  care  how  you  lived,  what  you 
did  or  how  you  fared,  just  to  make  money,  real  money 
out  of  nothing,  the  fascination  of  it  got  into  my  blood 
and  I  waved  aside  all  conscience  and  pride  and  gave  my- 
self up  to  the  violation  of  the  law.  But  the  money  didn't 
do  me  any  good ;  it  went  like  the  real  coins,  through  your 
stepmother's  fingers.  She  soon  showed  her  real  self. 
The  kind,  pitying  woman  was  gone  and  she  drank,  neg- 
lected the  house  and  would  have  been  cruel  to  you  if  she 
had  not  feared  me  on  that  point.  Then  one  day  I  woke 
up  to  my  better  nature  once  more.  I  saw  my  hideous 
sins  as  though  they  were  painted  on  a  fifty  feet  canvas. 
I  wanted  to  turn  over  a  new  leaf,  get  away  from  that 
awful  Red  Rose  Court,  go  to  a  farm  and  begin  life  all 
over  again.  You  should  have  your  chance,  be  raised 
more  like  your  mother  would  want  you  to  be.  You  know 
the  rest,  how  my  plans  went  wrong.  I  was  arrested  and 
sent  here  and  you  to  a  reformatory.  Oh,  I  am  paying  the 
penalty  the  state  demands  for  transgression  of  the  law, 
but  I  am  paying  more  than  that.  Every  day  is  one  of 
torture,  for  I  can't  put  from  me  the  memory  of  your 
mother  and  the  white-capped  face  of  my  own  sainted  one. 


128    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

How  I  have  fallen  from  the  standard  they  thought  I 
would  uphold!  Remorse — remorse — can  any  physical 
punishment,  any  deprivation  of  freedom  or  comfort  be 
half  so  hard  to  bear  as  remorse  that  eats  into  the  heart 
and  burns  and  cannot  be  relieved ! 

Now  you  know  the  whole  black  story.  I  can't  blame 
any  one  for  my  sins  except  my  own  weakness  and  lack  of 
strength  to  stand  against  the  storm.  But  if  it  is  in  my 
power  to  restore  you  to  what  you  should  have  had  all 
your  life,  a  home,  I  am  willing  and  glad  to  do  it.  My 
father  and  sisters  are  still  living.  The  warden  looked  it 
up  for  me.  In  the  little  town  of  Fairview,  in  Lancaster 
County,  they  are  living  in  the  big  old  house  where  I  was 
born  and  where  I  lived  my  boyhood.  There  is  your  home 
and  there  you  will  find  your  people.  They  are  different 
from  the  people  you  know,  perhaps  they  will  not  be  glad 
to  have  you,  but  I  know  their  sense  of  justice  is  so  strong 
that  in  duty's  name  you  will  find  a  good  home  with 
them.  I  think  I  shall  be  tortured  less  with  remorse 
if  I  know  you  are  safe  with  them.  Do  as  you 
please  about  going  to  them,  and  if  you  can  forgive 
me  for  depriving  you  of  all  I  did  it  will  be  more  than 
I  deserve.  If  you  denounce  me  for  my  weakness  it 
will  be  my  due.  Many  of  the  people  who  live  in  places 
like  Red  Rose  Court  know  no  better,  have  had  no  chance 
to  gain  better  things,  but  after  you  see  my  home  in  Fair- 
view  and  meet  the  good,  though  odd,  people  there,  you 
will  see  just  how  far  I  fell  when  I  went  to  the  slums. 
Sometimes  I  think  it  must  have  been  an  evil  dream,  but  I 
guess  it  has  all  been  only  too  true.  I'm  afraid  to  die  and 
meet  your  mother  after  the  way  I  dragged  you  to  Red 
Rose  Court  and  neglected  you.  But  you  must  be  like  her, 
for  the  evil  of  the  place  did  not  seem  to  touch  you. 


REVELATIONS  OF  SARAH'S  FATHER    129 

However,  my  wrong  to  you  is  not  lessened  by  the  fact 
that  you  kept  right  through  the  dreadful  experience  of 
that  place  and  the  reformatory.  My  conscience  worries 
me  day  and  night ;  only  when  I  know  you  are  happy  in  the 
home  of  my  people  will  I  feel  some  relief.  I  should  have 
sent  you  back  to  them  long  ago,  when  I  was  sent  here. 
Then  you  would  have  been  spared  the  stigma  of  these  six 
years  in  a  reformatory.  But  I  couldn't  bear  to  have  you 
go  to  them.  Now  I  see  my  mistake,  one  more  in  a  long 
life  of  them.  Seems  like  the  only  right  thing  I  ever  did 
was  to  marry  your  mother.  That  is  one  thing  I  have 
never  regretted.  Now  you  know  the  story.  Forgive  if 

you  can 

YOUR  FATHER. 

Sarah  dropped  the  letter  into  her  lap.  Her  gray  eyes 
were  fixed  on  space,  vagrant,  dreaming.  "  Poor  father," 
she  murmured,  "poor  mother,  poor  me!  Oh,"  she 
clasped  the  closely  written  sheets  against  her  heart,  "  he 
wronged  himself  infinitely  more  than  he  wronged  me. 
Poor  father  hasn't  been  an  angel,  but  I  think  his  people 
have  some  of  that  to  account  for.  They  did  not  under- 
stand. His  mother  was  the  only  one  who  tried  to  be 
broad-minded  and  kind  to  him.  The  rest  were,  and  I 
dare  say  still  are,  like  the  woman  who  came  to  the  re- 
formatory to  take  notes  on  juvenile  reform.  They  must 
be  cold,  hard,  their  minds  fixed  on  one  standard.  I'm 
going  to  Fairview  to  my  father's  people  and  stay  a  while 
just  to  show  them  what  mean  little  hypocrites  they  are! 
But  I  must  write  to  daddy  at  once — poor  old  shipwrecked 
daddy !  He  loved  my  mother  and  was  true  to  her  though 
it  cost  him  everything  else  he  cared  for  in  the  world. 
For  that  I  can  forgive  him  all  that  has  happened." 


130         THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

DEAR  FATHER  : 

If  there  is  anything  for  me  to  forgive  you  I  did  it 
so  long  ago  that  I  clean  forgot  all  about  it,  so  don't  you 
worry  about  that !  Why,  Red  Rose  Court  didn't  hurt  me 
a  bit !  I  learned  much  there  and  it  gave  me  a  chance  to 
see  how  poor  people  live.  Now  when  I  fall  heir  to  the 
Burkhart  fortune — I  take  it  for  granted  there  is  one,  for 
there  always  is  in  cases  like  this — I  shall  know  how  to 
appreciate  it  properly.  Why,  without  my  experience 
there  I'd  never  held  the  Maloney  baby  and  loved  it  or 
wheeled  it  home  from  the  park  while  its  soul  went  flying 
back  to  heaven!  And  I  should  never  have  learned  that 
there  are  perfectly  good  shoes,  dresses,  flowers  and  so 
forth  in  the  ash  cans  of  the  wealthy.  Oh,  father,  I  may 
sound  frivolous  but  I  mean  every  word  I  say.  I  do  for- 
give you  anything,  everything!  I  am  glad  you  told  me 
about  Fairview  and  my  relatives.  To  think  that  I  really 
have  a  grandfather  and  two  aunts  and  possibly  a  stack  of 
cousins  after  I  thought  I  was  almost  alone  in  the  world 
is  mighty  strange  and  makes  me  feel  that,  after  all,  I 
wasn't  picked  out  of  a  garbage  can.  So  I  am  going  to 
Fairview,  without  telling  them  that  I  am  coming,  else 
they  might  go  away  and  I'd  find  the  house  locked.  No, 
I'll  just  drop  in  on  a  visit  and  won't  they  be  surprised! 
I  was  going  to  say  glad,  but  I  guess  that  would  be  ex- 
pecting too  much.  Miss  Hughes  is  going  to  help  me  get 
a  proper  outfit  so  they  won't  be  ashamed  of  their  new 
relative.  She  offered  to  help  me  make  dresses  that  are  a 
little  different  from  the  eternal  blue  uniforms  of  the  re- 
formatory. So,  sometime  in  early  spring,  think  of  me 
stopping  at  that  old  big  house  on  Main  Street,  Fairview — 
seeing  my  people !  I  shall  write  to  you  and  let  you  know 
how  many  parties  and  receptions  they  have  in  my  honor. 


REVELATIONS  OF  SARAH'S  FATHER    131 

But,  seriously,  father,  I  am  eager  to  go,  to  have,  for  a 
time  at  least,  a  taste  of  a  real  home.  Do  you  know  that 
in  all  my  life,  since  I  can  remember,  I  have  not  lived  in 
one — Red  Rose  Court  doesn't  count.  Now  I  want  a 
Christmas  tree,  an  Easter  nest,  a  party,  and  all  the  trim- 
mings. If  they  are  not  glad  to  see  me  come,  then,  as 
Mrs.  Maloney  used  to  say,  they'll  be  glad  to  see  me  go. 

.With  love, 

SARAH. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

LANCASTER  COUNTY 

AFTER  a  long,  bitter  winter  April  smiled  upon  Lancas- 
ter County.  The  gray  succession  of  bleak  days  ended 
and  spring  came  with  a  rush.  It  blew  fresh  across  the 
mountains  where  the  tall  trees  stood  in  serried  ranks,  it 
ran  smilingly  along  the  meadows  ancl  fields  of  the  valley 
until  every  spot  rejoiced  in  the  promise  of  new  beauty, 
new  activities,  new  growth  and  every  woodland  nook  was 
dappled  with  flowers  and  dimpled  with  life.  The  trees, 
quickened,  unfolded  tassel  and  leaf;  the  flowers  sprung 
up  with  miraculous  haste;  the  erstwhile  doubting  ones 
who  had  asked  querulously,  "  Will  spring  never  come  ?  " 
rejoiced  in  the  fulfilment  of  the  promise,  "  While  the 
earth  remaineth  .  .  .  summer  and  winter  .  .  .  shall 
not  cease." 

When  Sarah  Burkhart  reached  Lancaster  County  the 
warmth  and  promise  of  the  spring  enwrapped  it  like  a 
garment.  It  had  been  a  slow  journey  but  to  the  girl  who 
had  lived  in  so  small  a  circle  each  hour  of  the  two  hun- 
dred miles  from  Sunset  Mountain  to  Fairview  was 
fraught  with  interest.  Older,  blase  travelers  complained 
of  the  frequent  stops  on  the  last  lap  of  the  trip,  as  though 
fifteen  stations  in  thirty-two  miles  were  an  outrage,  but 
Sarah  laughed  at  them  and  wished  the  train  would  stop 
oftener,  for  was  she  not  in  her  own  father's  country  and 
eager  to  see  as  much  of  it  as  possible !  Yet  she  rose  with 
alacrity  when  the  train  man  cried,  "  Fairview !  "  Here, 
at  last,  was  her  home — the  home  of  her  people ! 


LANCASTER  COUNTY  133 

A  kind  conductor  helped  her  off  the  train  with  her  bag- 
gage and  answered  her  smile  with  one  equally  sincere, 
while  he  wondered  who  might  be  the  radiant  young  crea- 
ture who  put  into  her  "  Thank  you  "  so  much  feeling. 

Sarah  Burkhart  at  eighteen  was  worthy  of  a  second 
glance.  Of  medium  height,  slender  and  vibrant  as  a 
sapling  of  the  woods,  she  gave  one  the  impression  of  con- 
served strength,  unbounded  energy.  Her  six  years  on 
the  mountain  had  done  wonders  for  her,  but  not  miracles. 
She  still  had  the  same  little  turned-up  nose  and  the 
freckles  that  had  brought  upon  her  so  many  fights  in  Red 
Rose  Court  when  spoken  of  disparagingly.  But  her  hair 
was  black  as  ever  and  her  gray  eyes  held  depths  as  still 
and  lovely  as  a  mountain  stream.  She  still  had  her  child- 
hood's way  of  narrowing  her  lids  in  a  scrutinizing  gaze 
when  doubtful  or  perplexed,  but  at  other  times  her  eyes, 
wide  open  as  a  Madonna's,  had  all  the  innocence  of  a 
child's.  As  she  stood  on  the  little  platform  at  Fairview 
and  watched  the  train  depart,  who  would  have  dreamed 
that  the  slim  young  girl  had  lived  in  the  slums  of  a  great 
city  and  subsequently  spent  six  years  in  a  reformatory  ? 

As  she  stood  there  she  was  thinking  of  Miss  Hughes. 
How  kind  she  had  been,  how  more  than  kind!  It  had 
been  Miss  Hughes  who  kept  her  on  the  mountain  and 
away  from  slavish  labor  in  the  home  of  some  want-to-be 
aristocrat  who  shied  from  paying  proper  servants.  It 
had  been  Miss  Hughes  who  taught,  loved  and  helped  the 
harum-scarum  Sade  of  Red  Rose  Court  how  to  act  like  a 
lady,  as  the  child  expressed  it  in  those  first  days  away 
from  her  father.  Then  later  it  was  Miss  Hughes  who 
arranged  for  new  clothes  and  cajoled  the  Trustees  into 
buying  for  Sarah  an  outfit  proper  for  her  going  back  to 
the  home  of  her  father's  people.  And  it  was  Miss  Hughes 


134    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

who  found  out  about  the  trains,  took  her  to  the  depot, 
kissed  her  good-bye  and  waved  a  gay  farewell  as  the  mo- 
mentous journey  was  begun. 

Sarah  felt  elated  at  her  successful  carrying  out  of  the 
trip.  "  Why,"  she  thought  happily,  "  I  bet  I  could  travel 
all  the  way  to  California  alone!  Here  I  am  at  last  in 
Fairview  and  I  feel  it  in  my  bones  that  I  am  going  to 
have  an  adventure.  Wish  I  had  brought  Jerry  along. 
But  Miss  Hughes  persuaded  me  to  leave  him  with  her — 
guess  it  is  the  better  way,  for  one  girl  my  relatives  don't 
expect  is  quite  enough,  without  adding  a  collie." 

The  thought  set  her  laughing.  At  the  sound  an  old 
man  who  stood  by  an  older  conveyance  turned  to  her 
and  asked,  "  Miss,  was  you  wantin'  to  be  drove  any- 
wheres ?  " 

Sarah  looked  at  the  hackman,  then  at  the  hack,  and 
suppressed  a  smile.  She  did  not  know  that  she  was  look- 
ing at  the  important  Transfer,  as  the  residents  of  Fair- 
view  named  the  hack,  important  because  it  carried  the 
mail  to  and  from  the  depot  three  times  a  day  and  could 
be  called  upon  to  carry  passengers  to  any  part  of  the 
little  town  of  two  thousand  inhabitants.  She  saw  merely 
an  odd,  closed  conveyance  which  she  had  no  desire  to 
enter  and  leaning  against  it,  a  funny  little  old  man  who 
chewed  his  gums,  wore  his  trousers  hitched  to  pink 
suspenders,  and  turned  a  wrinkled,  smiling  face  to  her. 

"  No,  I  think  I'll  walk,  thank  you,"  she  told  him.  "  I 
suppose  it  isn't  very  far.  Do  you  know  where  Jeremiah 
Burkhart  lives  ?  "  she  asked  eagerly. 

"  Me,  well,  I  guess !  "  came  the  swift  reply.  "  Why,  I 
done  all  his  haulin'  since  I  drive  the  Transfer,  for  thirty 
years  anyhow,  if  not  more.  Ach,  be  sure  I  know  where 
he  lives  at!  See  that  big  street  across  them  tracks?" 


LANCASTER  COUNTY  135 

He  pointed  to  the  long  shaded  street  where  lindens  and 
horse-chestnuts  grew  rank  along  the  curb. 

"  Yes,"  the  girl  told  him. 

"  Well,  now  that's  where  Jeremiah  Burkhart  lives  at. 
In  that  big  house,  fourth  from  the  corner  this-a-way,  the 
one  that's  set  back  a  piece  in  the  yard  and  got  the  two 
big  trees  right  in  the  front  yard — that's  it !  " 

"  Oh,  thank  you,"  Sarah  said,  her  heart  beating  with 
excitement. 

"  Don't  mention  it.  But  are  you  a  relation  of  his, 
mebbe  ?  "  The  curiosity  of  the  small  town  person  who 
knows  the  name  and  pedigree  of  every  visitor  leaped  to 
the  front. 

"Thank  you  very  much,"  repeated  the  girl,  seeming 
not  to  have  heard  the  question. 

"  Comin'  to  visit  then,  mebbe  ?  "  persisted  the  man. 

"  I  think  I  can  find  it  all  right,  thank  you,"  said  Sarah 
as  she  picked  up  her  bag  and  started  off. 

"  Jimminy  pats,  she's  close-mouthed !  Wonder  now  if 
she  might  be  some  high-toned  relation  from  the  city ! 
Heh,  wonder  how  she'll  like  old  Jerry — must  be  her  first 
trip  here  if  she  don't  know  where  he  lives.  Wonder  how 
he'll  like  her,  with  them  stylish  duds  and  pretty  face  and 
all — heh,  he'll  have  some  job  makin'  a  Mennonite  out  her 
if  she's  some  one  comin'  to  stay." 

When  Sarah  reached  the  iron  fence  that  separated  the 
Burkhart  home  from  the  street  she  stood  still  a  moment. 
A  swift  glance  up  the  street  showed  her  that  all  the 
houses  of  the  block  were  set  in  green  terraced  yards,  back 
from  the  fences  and  hedges.  Oh,  what  a  place  for  a 
home!  The  Burkhart  place  was  big,  attractive  in  its 
old-fashioned  plain  architecture,  and  to  the  girl  who  had 
known  nothing  like  it,  appeared  a  veritable  mansion. 


136    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

What  a  place  for  Christmas  trees,  parties  and  all  the 
delightful  occurrences  one  read  of  in  books.  At  that 
moment  she  realized  that  dear  as  the  home  on  the 
mountain  had  come  to  be  because  of  Miss  Hughes,  it  had, 
nevertheless,  been  merely  an  institution.  Home — would 
this  lovely  old  house  with  its  yard  and  trees  and  its  flow- 
ers already  bursting  into  bloom  along  the  side  of  the 
walks,  be  a  real  home  for  her  ?  It  had  been  her  father's. 
Here  had  fallen  upon  his  ears  the  denunciation  of  the 
girl  he  loved,  within  those  red  brick  walls  had  been 
spoken  the  bitter  words  that  had  made  him  an  outcast 
from  his  people.  Feelings  varied  and  uncertain  were 
within  her  as  she  opened  the  gate  and  went  up  the  three 
sandstone  steps  that  led  to  the  walk  and  the  front 
porch. 

She  rang  the  bell.  The  door  opened  and  a  woman  in 
the  garb  of  a  Mennonite  stood  before  her.  For  a  minute 
Sarah  was  confused.  The  plain  dress  of  the  woman,  the 
sheer  white  cap  upon  her  head,  surprised  her.  Then  she 
remembered  that  her  father  had  mentioned  something 
about  some  religious  sects  flourishing  among  the  Penn- 
sylvania Dutch,  sects  that  demanded  of  their  followers 
some  peculiar  garb  to  denote  their  aloofness  from  the 
vanities  of  the  world.  Of  course,  her  father's  people 
were  members  of  some  such  sect. 

"  What  did  you  want  ?  "  The  woman's  voice  was  gen- 
tle but  none  too  cordial.  Here,  probably,  was  another 
agent  for  books,  aluminum,  or  something  they  didn't 
need. 

"  Is  this  the  place  where  Jeremiah  Burkhart  lives  ?  " 
"  Why,  yes  it  is.     Did  you  want  to  see  him  ?  " 
"  Yes,  or  some  other  person  in  his  family — I'm  his 
granddaughter." 


LANCASTER  COUNTY  137 

"His — what?"  The  woman  frowned,  then  looked 
puzzled.  "  I  guess  you  made  a  mistake,  mebbe.  He  got 
no  granddaughter.  He's  my  pop  so  I  know." 

"  But  he  has  a  granddaughter,"  repeated  Sarah,  "  I 
know  he  has !  Didn't  he  have  a  son  Jeremiah  and  hasn't 
that  son  a  daughter?  Well,  I  am  that  daughter,  so  that 
makes  him  my  grandfather." 

The  woman  started,  then  drew  the  girl  into  the  hall  and 
closed  the  door. 

"  Come  in,"  she  said  with  agitation,  "  it's  for  no  use  to 
stand  on  the  step  and  let  the  neighbors  hear  it  all.  Now, 
what's  your  name  ?  "  She  still  appeared  unconvinced. 

"  Sarah  Burkhart.  My  father's  name  is  Jeremiah.  He 
told  me  you  lived  here,  and  that  you  are  my  people." 

"  My,  my,"  the  woman  shook  her  head  sorrowfully, 
"  then  Jeremiah  had  a  girl  and  you're  her — my,  my,  pop, 
he'll  be  dreadful  put  out.  But  mebbe  it's  good,  for  all, 
you  come,  for  he  sits  a  lot  and  thinks  and  I  got  a  notion 
he  often  wonders  what  become  of  his  boy.  Now  he's 
gettin'  old  those  things  kinda  stick  to  him.  I  guess  you 
know  that  your  pop  went  to  the  bad,  married  a  play- 
woman,  a  dancer  and  that  pop  told  him  he  was  done  with 
him.  It  broke  mom  all  up  and  she  died  soon  after.  Then 
me  and  Sybilla,  that's  my  big  sister,  started  to  keep  the 
house  for  pop  and  done  so  since.  But  we  never  heard 
nothin'  from  Jeremiah  since  mom  died;  we  thought  he 
was  dead  long  a'ready.  Guess  he  was  ashamed  to  come 
back  after  what  he  done.  Pop,  he  says  still  that  he  made 
his  bed  now  let  him  lay  in  it." 

"  Are  you  my  aunt  ?  "  Sarah  had  to  ask  something  to 
keep  her  "Irish,  temper  from  retorting  denial  of  the 
woman's  accusations  about  her  father. 

"  Me  ?    Why,  yes.     I'm  your  Aunt  Mary,  then.     But 


138    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

come  in  the  parlor  and  I'll  go  tell  pop  and  Sybilla.  Just 
happens  pop  is  home  from  the  store." 

"  Pop ! "  she  called  as  she  went  down  the  wide  hall, 
"  there's  somebody  in  the  parlor  for  you  to  see." 

"  For  me  ?  "  came  a  man's  deep  voice.  Then  the  visitor 
heard  whispered  conversations  and  once  a  raised,  "  My, 
my,  what  a  business !  "  A  few  minutes  later  Aunt  Mary 
returned,  followed  by  an  older  woman  and  an  old  man. 

Sarah's  hands  were  unconsciously  flung  out  in  entreaty 
for  welcome.  "  Are  you  my  grandfather  ?  "  she  asked. 

Jeremiah  Burkhart  was  not  the  type  to  whom  one 
could  give  an  impetuous  greeting.  Sarah's  hands  fell  to 
her  sides  and  the  two  regarded  each  other  in  silence  for 
a  spell. 

She  saw  a  patriarchal,  dignified  old  man,  the  like  of 
which  one  finds  frequently  among  the  plain  sects.  His 
big  frame,  and  massive  head,  were  dependable  indices  to 
the  strength  and  ruggedness  of  his  nature.  Stern,  just, 
uncompromising,  Jeremiah  Burkhart  was  a  pillar  in  his 
church,  a  man  esteemed  in  his  town,  true  as  steel  in 
business,  hating  evil  and  worldliness  equally,  and  so  un- 
swerving in  his  adherence  to  the  straight  and  narrow  way 
that  he  had  small  patience  with  those  who  followed  the 
primrose  paths  of  pleasure.  His  expression  was  not  one 
to  inspire  love  or  waken  confidence  in  the  heart  of  the 
girl  who  had  thrust  her  way  unannounced  into  his  house- 
hold. 

He  looked  at  her  over  his  steel-rimmed  spectacles. 
"  You  say  you  are  Jeremiah's  girl  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  the  answer  came  weakly,  while  the  girl  won- 
dered what  had  suddenly  happened  to  her  splendid 
courage.  She  glanced  at  the  elder  daughter  and  found 
there  the  same  stern  expression  the  man  carried  in  his 


LANCASTER  COUNTY  139 

eyes'.  Only  in  the  face  of  Aunt  Mary  was  anything  akin 
to  welcome. 

"  My  father  is  your  son,"  she  gathered  her  recreant 
senses  together.  "  His  name  is  Jerry." 

"Jeremiah,"  corrected  the  man.  "I  never  named  no  boy 
Jerry.  He  was  named  for  me  and  I  am  Jeremiah.  But 
he's  been  gone  out  of  our  lives  for  twenty  years.  Where 
is  he?  Why  did  he  send  you  to  us?  Was  he  afraid  to 
come  himself  and  sent  you  instead?  Why  didn't  you 
come  long  ago  if  you  want  to  know  us?  Where's 
your  mom  ? "  The  questions  were  given  in  rapid  suc- 
cession, while  the  three  of  the  household  waited  for 
replies. 

"  My  mother  is  dead,  has  been  dead  for  sixteen  years. 
And  my  father ' 

"  Yes,  what  about  him  ?     Is  he  dead  too  ?  " 

"  No."  Tears  welled  to  the  eyes  of  the  girl.  Oh,  they 
wouldn't  understand  and  pity  and  forgive !  They  would 
condemn.  "  He  is  in — in  the  penitentiary." 

Aunt  Mary  drew  in  her  breath  and  clapped  a  hand 
over  her  eyes  as  if  she  would  shut  out  the  terrible  fact. 
Aunt  Sybilla  and  her  father  nodded  solemnly  and  the 
latter  expressed  the  opinion  of  both  when  he  said, 
"  That's  just  where  I  thought  he  would  end  up  when  he 
went  against  the  teachings  of  a  good  mother  and  father. 
In  jail,  and  all  because  he  married  himself  to  a  bad 
woman." 

"  No,  no ! "  came  the  shrill  protest  of  the  girl.  "  My 
mother  was  not  a  bad  woman !  My  mother  didn't  make 
my  father  get  where  he  is  to-day.  If  you  can  blame  any 
one  besides  himself  I  guess  " — she  pointed  an  accusing 
finger  to  the  man,  her  face  drawn  into  a  hard  expres- 
sion— "  I  guess  the  blame  comes  back  to  you.  I  know  the 


140    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

story  of  his  life.  You  were  so  good  and  religious  you 
couldn't  have  any  mercy  on  a  decent  girl  when  she 
earned  an  honest  living  in  the  only  way  she  thought  she 
could  and  a  way  she  thought  was  all  right.  You  said  she 
was  wicked,  but  you  didn't  know  her  and  had  no  right  to 
judge.  My  father  married  her  and  they  were  happy,  for 
they  stuck  to  each  other  through  thick  and  thin.  He  must 
have  loved  her  an  awful  lot  to  give  up  a  home  like  this 
and  a  mother  like  he  told  me  about,  but  I  guess  that's 
what  he  did  do,  for  he  says  he  is  not  sorry  he  married 
her.  Then  she  died  and  he  had  nobody  but  me,  two  years 
old.  Perhaps  if  he  could  have  brought  me  back  here  and 
stayed  in  his  old  home  he  would  have  been  as  good  as 
when  my  mother  lived.  But  you  said  you  were  through 
with  him  and  he  stayed  away.  He  got  into  bad  habits, 
counterfeited  and  got  caught  and  arrested  and  put  be- 
hind the  bars.  I  was  sent  to  a  reformatory  for  there  was 
no  person  to  take  care  of  me.  I  stayed  there  six  years. 
Several  months  ago  father  told  me  about  my  people  and 
here  I  am." 

She  looked  defiantly  up  into  the  face  of  the  old  man, 
half  wondering  how  she  managed  to  say  so  long  an 
indictment  to  the  stern  person. 

"  Well,"  his  words  came  slowly  as  though  he  were 
weighing  each  one  before  utterance.  "  Here  you  are  and 
I  guess  this  is  the  place  for  you  if  you  are  in  the  family 
like  you  are.  We  will  keep  you  even  if  you  are  the  child 
of  that " 

"  I  wouldn't  say  it,"  she  suggested  with  dangerous 
sweetness.  "  I  guess  you  know  your  girls  wouldn't  want 
to  hear  anything  mean  about  their  mother  and  I  love  the 
memory  of  mine  as  much  as  they  love  the  memory  of 
their  Mennonite  mother."  She  raised  her  head  and 


LANCASTER  COUNTY  141 

looked  at  her  grandfather  with  calm,  level  dignity.  "  I 
am  here  and  would  like  to  stay  a  while  and  get  acquainted, 
but  please  don't  ever  say  anything  mean  about  my  dead 
mother.  She  was  sweet  and  good  as  any  saint  and  I'll 
love  her  always,  so  I  will !  I  love  my  father,  too,  even  if 
he  is  in  jail !  Then  you  want  me  ?  "  she  asked  with  pro- 
voking Irish  boldness.  She  knew  only  too  well  how 
dubious  was  her  welcome. 

Aunt  Sybilla,  so  like  the  stern  old  man,  smoothed  her 
white  cap  strings  and  answered  dutifully,  "  Of  course, 
you  got  a  right  to  be  here.  Long  as  pop  is  your  grand- 
pap  we  ain't  got  no  right  to  turn  you  out.  Anyhow, 
where  would  you  go?  Guess  this  is  the  only  place  you 
can  go  unless  you  hire  out  and  we  wouldn't  want  that 
when  it  ain't  necessary.  But  you  got  to  behave  yourself 
and  not  make  abody  ashamed  with  you.  We  got  trouble 
enough  a'ready  without  you  givin'  yet  more.  If  you  act 
like  you  should  you  dare  stay  for  all  it  makes  out  to  me. 
I  guess  pop  will  say  the  same,  ain't  ?  "  She  turned  to  the 
man  for  approval. 

"  Yes.  She's  in  the  family  but  look  here — what's  your 
name — Sarah  ?  Well,  Sarah,  you  don't  dare  talk  no  more 
to  me  like  you  done  a  while  past !  To  say  I  drove  your 
pop  to  the  bad !  I  won't  have  it !  I  just  wanted  to  make 
a  good  man  out  him  and  if  he'd  done  like  I  tried  to  make 
him  he'd  be  a  blessing  instead  of  makin'  us  all  trouble. 
He's  reapin'  what  he  sowed." 

"  Yes  " — Sarah  lingered  over  the  word  and  spoke  with 
so  great  an  apparent  guilelessness  that  the  man  could  not 
call  her  to  halt.  "  Yes,  he  is  reaping  what  he  sowed  and 
I  suppose  we  all  -have  some  reaping  to  do  we'd  like  to 
run  away  from  if  we  could."  The  shrewd  Pennsylvania 
Dutchman,  wise  and  quick  though  he  might  be,  was  no 


142    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

match  for  the  clever  Irish  strain  that  was  so  strong  in 
his  newly  found  grandchild. 

He  admitted  to  himself  that  he  did  not  relish  the  pres- 
ence of  the  sharp-tongued,  self-willed  girl  in  his  house 
but  he  could  do  no  less  than  open  his  door  for  her.  The 
knowledge  that  his  son  was  a  criminal  was  a  sore  blow  to 
him,  but  it  added  strength  to  his  ancient  conviction  that 
the  ways  of  the  world  are  evil  ones,  that  dancing  and  all 
frivolities  carry  ruin  and  disgrace  in  their  wake.  Per- 
haps the  child  of  the  dancer  could  be  redeemed,  the  in- 
fluence of  a  religious  family  might  keep  her  from  follow- 
ing after  her  parents — oh,  what  a  double  inheritance  the 
child  had — weakness,  worldliness!  It  would  be  their 
duty  to  train  her  in  the  way  she  should  go. 

Presently  Aunt  Sybilla  departed  up-stairs  to  prepare  a 
room  for  the  new  member.  Aunt  Mary  followed  timidly 
after  her,  though  she  longed  to  stay  and  become  ac- 
quainted with  the  girl.  Sarah  was  left  alone  with  her 
grandfather.  She  squirmed  about  on  her  chair,  but  he 
paid  no  attention  to  her  uneasiness  as  he  sat  with  his 
hands  resting  on  his  cane  and  his  eyes  downcast.  The 
silence  and  presence  of  the  man  so  deep  in  thought  made 
her  restive. 

"  May  I,"  she  asked  quietly,  "  please  may  I  go  out  in 
the  yard  and  see  the  flowers  ?  " 

He  looked  at  her  suddenly;  his  eyes  had  lost  some  of 
their  stern  coldness  and  a  brooding  sadness  was  in  them. 
When  he  spoke  he  sounded  totally  unlike  the  accusing 
man  who  had  said  such  stinging  things  about  her  parents. 
"  Go  out.  We  got  a  nice  yard." 

She  found  her  way  through  the  hall,  dining-room  and 
into  the  immaculate  kitchen  open  to  the  breezes  from  the 
back  yard.  At  the  kitchen  window  she  stood  still  and 


LANCASTER  COUNTY  143 

looked  out.  The  green  loveliness  of  the  grass  and  flower- 
decked  yard  brought  a  sudden  lump  to  her  throat.  She 
dashed  away  a  few  tears,  her  lips  quivered — "  I'm  home 
at  last!  But  I'm  not  welcome.  I'll  have  to  work  and 
earn  my  place  here.  If  I  weren't  so  much  of  a  coward 
I'd  pack  right  back  to  Miss  Hughes,  but  it  takes  more 
courage  to  do  that  than  to  stay  here,  so  I'll  stay."  The 
yearning  for  a  home  was  for  the  time  paramount  over 
the  wicked  desire  to  teach  them  what  "  mean  little  hypo- 
crites they  were  "  as  she  had  said  on  the  mountain. 

Up-stairs  the  two  sisters  faced  each  other.  "  Mary," 
the  elder  said  sternly,  "  it  seems  like  more  than  we  de- 
serve in  the  way  of  burdens  to  have  that  girl,  the  child 
of  a  dancer,  in  our  home.  Jeremiah  makes  trouble  for 
us  even  after  he's  been  away  for  twenty  years." 

"  Poor  Jerry,"  the  other  whispered. 

"  Yes,  you  pitied  him  always ;  you  got  too  much  of  his 
softness  in  you !  Me,  I'm  like  pop  now,  I  make  no  fuss 
over  wickedness ;  I  call  a  spade  a  spade  and  a  sin  a  sin." 

"  I  know,  Sybilla,  you  are  very  strong  and  so  good  ^ 
Christian  like  I  can  never  be.  Guess  I  got  too  much 
easiness  in  me,  like  you  say.  But  I  can't  seem  to  get  over 
it,  no  matter  how  hard  I  try  still.  Now  mebbe  this  is 
our  chance  to  help  poor  Sarah,  to  show  her  the  right  way 
and  keep  her  from  goin'  to  the  bad." 

"  Well,  that's  the  only  way  I  can  find  any  comfort  in 
her  bein'  here.  She's  not  much  of  a  Burkhart,  did  you 
notice?  Her  eyes  and  hair  must  be  her  mom's.  Her 
nose,  turnin'  up,  is  all  that's  ours.  But  to  think  of  it — 
our  Jeremiah,  our  own  flesh  and  blood,  to  be  in  jail! 
Fairview  will  have  somethin'  to  talk  about  now  for  a 
while." 

"Must  they  know?" 


THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB1 

"  Ach,  how  could  abody  keep  it  quiet  in  a  town  like 
this?  We  might  as  good  print  it  in  the  Examiner  next 
week  for  everybody  will  know  the  girl  is  here  and  want 
to  know  who  she  is  and  where  her  pop  is  and  before  you 
know  the  cat  will  be  out  the  bag.  So  we  might  better  tell 
and  done  with  it.  We  can't  lie." 

"  No,  we  can't  lie,"  agreed  Mary.  "  Sybilla,  it  makes 
abody  feel  bad  about  her  not  havin'  a  home  for  so  long 
and  livin'  in  one  of  them  places  they  sent  bad  girls  to. 
I  thought  still  only  terrible  bad  ones  was  there,  but  I 
guess  nobody  wanted  her  and  what  could  they  do  with 
her?  If  only  her  pop'd  sent  her  to  us  long  a'ready !  It's 
a  wonder  she  ain't  gone  to  the  bad  altogether  bein'  in 
with  them  others.  Now  we  got  to  show  her  how  good  a 
home  she  has  here." 

"  Don't  you  go  spoilin'  her  a'ready.  She's  her  mom's 
child  and  I  guess  we  got  our  hands  full  till  she  grows  up. 
She  looks  strong  and  can  help  with  the  work.  It'll  come 
in  handy  this  summer  with  the  cherries  and  things  to  can 
and  garden  to  tend  and  such  things.  Mebbe  for  all  it's 
good  she  come,  and  she's  relation  to  us." 

"  Well,  I  guess ! "  said  Mary,  smiling,  "  'bout  as  near 
as  we  got  except  pop."  The  face  of  the  younger  woman 
bore  a  strange,  unwonted  expression.  At  last  she  was 
going  to  have  one  of  her  eternal  longings  satisfied — a 
young  person  in  the  house,  to  love  and  teach  and  help. 
Sarah  was  sure  of  one  friend.  But  she  had  no  pre- 
science of  that  friendship  as  she  stood  by  the  kitchen  win- 
dow and  looked  out  at  the  yard.  A  sudden  loneliness 
seized  her ;  she  wished  she  had  her  dog,  or  Miss  Hughes, 
or  even  Mrs.  Maloney,  to  talk  to.  Then  she  heard  her 
name  called  and  turned  to  the  hall. 

"  Ma'am  ?  "  she  answered. 


LANCASTER  COUNTY  145 

"  Fetch  your  things  up  here,"  came  Aunt  Sybilla's 
voice.  As  the  girl  reached  the  top  step  the  aunt  told  her, 
"  You  needn't  call  me  ma'am.  I'm  your  Aunt  Sybilla. 
You  call  me  that." 

"  Yes,  Aunt  Sybilla."  The  girl  was  suddenly  very  meek 
as  she  followed  the  woman  into  a  big  room  where  a 
freshly  made  bed  stood  along  one  side. 

"  This  will  be  your  room.  You  dare  take  care  of  it 
yourself,  all  but  the  sweepin'  every  week  on  Friday.  I 
do  that.  Can  you  make  a  bed  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes !    I  learned  to  work  in  the  reformatory." 

"  And  you  needn't  keep  talkin'  about  that  reform'tory 
all  the  time,  neither.  In  a  little  town  like  Fairview  such 
things  gets  round  quick  enough  without  you  tell  them 
every  time  you  open  your  mouth." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  I  mean  Aunt  Sybilla !  You  must  par- 
don me  if  I  forget  how  to  address  you  for  I  never  had 
an  aunt.  You  see  I  never  had  any  family  till  I  found 
you.  That's  the  reason  I  was  so  anxious  for  father  to 
tell  me  where  to  find  you  for  I  did  so  want  relatives  like 
other  people  have." 

"  And  you  needn't  talk  about  your  pop  all  the  time, 
either,"  came  another  command  of  the  woman.  "  We 
can  talk  without  draggin'  his  name  in.  Your  grandpap 
ain't  too  anxious  to  hear  his  name  and  me  neither,  seein' 
all  the  trouble  we  had  from  his  actin'." 

Sarah's  strange  meekness  vanished  like  smoke.  She 
tossed  her  head  and  said,  "  When  it  comes  to  my  father 
no  one  is  going  to  muzzle  me!  I  care  for  him  and  I 
guess  it's  no  crime  to  talk  about  him."  Her  loyal  heart 
had  no  thought  to  allow  the  memory  of  him  to  sink  into 
oblivion. 

"  Well,"  responded  the  woman  diplomatically,  "  if  you 


146    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

want  the  whole  town  of  Fairview  to  hash  over  all  the 
things  your  pop  done  and  get  it  printed  in  the  paper  that 
he's  in  jail,  just  you  go  ahead  and  talk  about  him  all  the 
time,  that's  all ! " 

"  Oh,  I  guess — I  guess  perhaps  it  would  be  wiser  not 
to  mention  him  too  often.  But  I'll  think  about  him ;  no- 
body can  stop  me  thinking  about  him !  " 

"  Put  your  things  in  that  closet  and  then  come  down 
in  the  kitchen,"  ordered  Aunt  Sybilla.  "  Mebbe  you  can 
help  your  Aunt  Mary  for  I  got  work  in  the  garden  yet. 
This  here  comin'  unexpected  upset  the  day  for  us.  Now 
you  know  where  your  room  is  I  can  go  back  to  my  work." 

When  Sarah  was  left  alone  in  her  sanctum  she  looked 
about.  It  was  the  largest  bedroom  she  had  ever  seen. 
In  the  home  on  the  mountain  they  were  such  tiny  things, 
but  this — it  appeared  very  fine  to  her  eyes.  The  old- 
fashioned  walnut  bureau  and  its  tombstone  marble  slab 
top  was  novel  to  her.  Also  the  massive  bed  with  its 
patchwork  quilt,  the  wash-stand  with  its  pitcher  and  bowl 
and  its  red-outlined  splasher  tacked  to  the  back  to  save 
the  wall-paper,  the  rag  carpet  and  hooked  rugs.  On  a 
hooked  rug  spread  before  the  bureau  was  the  word 
WELCOME  drawn  in  with  vivid  red  wool  on  a  background 
of  tan.  The  absurdity  of  the  word  in  her  room  when 
she  was  certainly  not  as  welcome  as  the  rug  implied  sent 
her  into  a  merry  gale  of  laughter.  "  Why,"  she  gasped 
after  a  moment's  indulgence  in  mirth,  "  I  can  laugh  yet ! 
Bless  me,  if  I  didn't  think  I  clean  forgot  how  since  Aunt 
Sybilla  scared  me  stiff." 

Her  room  was  lovely,  she  thought,  perfectly  lovely; 
there  at  least  she  was  not  disappointed.  But  the  rooms 
down-stairs,  what  she  had  seen  of  them,  were  impres- 
sive. Her  family  must  be  wealthy  to  have  a  house  with 


LANCASTER  COUNTY  147 

so  many  rooms,  all  large  ones,  and  furnished  with  heavy 
furniture  and  fine  carpets  almost  covered  with  numerous 
small  rugs.  And  the  lawn  and  porch — she  sighed  with 
pleasure  to  think  it  was  all  a  part  of  her  home.  What  a 
place  for  little  children!  How  the  Maloney  baby  that 
died  from  the  heat  would  have  enjoyed  that  grass  and 
fresh  air! 

"Sarah!" 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  I  mean,  Aunt  Mary,"  she  answered  the 
call  over  the  stairway. 

"  Are  you  soon  comin'  ?  " 

"  Right  away.    I  was  dreaming." 

"  Ach,  then  it's  all  right.  I  just  thought  mebbe  you 
didn't  know  you  should  come  down  when  you  get  done." 

Sarah  ran  down  the  stairs  and  out  to  the  kitchen.  She 
felt  less  restraint  in  the  presence  of  the  gentle  aunt  who 
had  inherited  the  mother's  traits  rather  than  the  paternal 
ones. 

"  Let  me  help  you,  Aunt  Mary,"  she  begged ;  "  the  cook 
at  school  said  I  was  real  handy."  Aunt  Mary  took  her 
at  her  word  and  the  girl  was  soon  busy  with  preparations 
for  supper.  A  feeling  of  friendliness  sprang  up  in  her 
heart.  With  her  impulsive  Irish  quickness  she  said  to 
the  white-capped  woman  as  they  worked  together  in  the 
kitchen,  "  I  like  you,  Aunt  Mary,  and  feel  we  are  going 
to  be  friends.  But  that  other  aunt  with  the  queer  name 
— say,  can  she  smile  at  all?" 

"  Hush,"  warned  the  woman.  "  Sybilla  is  always  quiet- 
like  and  sad.  She's  had  a  big  trouble  in  her  life.  She 
never  got  over  it  right.  But  it's  most  twenty  years  ago 
and  I  think  still  I'd  kinda  forgot  all  about  it  by  now,  but 
then  abody  thinks  still  you  would  do  so  and  so  till  you 
get  to  the  same  place." 


148    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

"  Trouble,"  echoed  Sarah,  "  had  trouble  twenty  years 
ago  and  still  looks  like  a  funeral  about  it!  Who  ever 
heard  of  such  a  thing?  That's  just  like  Mrs.  Maloney 
used  to  say,  some  people  hold  on  to  their  troubles  so  hard 
they  couldn't  slip  away  if  they  wanted  to." 

"But,  ach,"  Aunt  Mary's  face  was  soft  with  sym- 
pathy, "  poor  Sybilla  had  an  awful  big  trouble." 

"What  kind?" 

"  Sh !  "  cautioned  the  woman,  "  we  don't  talk  about  it 
at  all!  But  abody  can  see  Sybilla  thinks  about  it  and 
ain't  goin'  to  ever  get  over  it  right." 

"  But  what  was  it,  what  dreadful  thing  happened  to 
her?" 

"  Sh !  Mebbe  some  day  I  might  tell  you  about  it. 
But  you  must  bear  with  her  and  not  mind  when  she  is  a 
little  cross  or  strict.  She  is  so  unhappy  all  the  time,  but 
she's  so  good,  much  better  than  I.  If  trouble  hits  the 
worst  one  in  the  family  I  would  got  it  stead  of  poor 
Sybilla,  but  me,  I  never  had  much  trouble  in  my  life. 
Sybilla  says  still  that  if  the  Lord  loved  them  He  chasten- 
eth,  like  it  says  in  the  Bible,  then  He  must  love  her  an 
awful  lot  to  give  her  such  a  burden." 

"  Um,"  Sarah  was  thoughtful,  "  Miss  Hughes  used  to 
say  that  she  knew  some  people  who  held  on  to  burdens 
that  would  roll  away  if  the  people  only  had  sense  enough 
to  let  go." 

"  Yes  ?  I  never  heard  anything  like  that — now,  mebbe, 
for  all,  that  might  be  true.  But  I  know  that  Sybilla  is  a 
good  woman  and  she's  kinda  boss  round  here,  being  the 
oldest  and  all.  So  if  you  do  what  she  tells  you  she'll 
treat  you  right." 

"  Say,"  said  Sarah,  "  isn't  that  the  way  of  most 
of  us  ?  We're  nice  to  them  who  are  nice  to  us  but  when 


LANCASTER  COUNTY  149 

it  comes  to  sinners  and  those  who  go  against  us — 
whew!" 

Her  words  set  the  woman  thinking.  "  Sarah,"  she  said 
softly,  "  it  wouldn't  wonder  me  none  if  we  learned  a  few 
things  yet  from  you  before  you  get  done  with  us !  " 

The  girl  laughed,  but  she  remembered  the  words. 
"  Mrs.  Maloney,  a  woman  who  lived  in  the  same  street 
when  I  was  little,  used  to  say  that  children  and  fools 
speak  the  truth,  so  perhaps  I  do  hit  the  nail  on  the  head 
sometimes." 

The  evening  meal  in  the  Burkhart  home  was  a  simple 
one  in  their  opinion  but  to  Sarah,  accustomed  to  the 
plain  fare  of  the  reformatory,  it  was  a  feast.  She  helped 
to  carry  it  to  the  big  table  in  the  kitchen,  then  sat  down 
where  she  was  directed  by  Sybilla.  During  a  long  grace 
said  by  her  grandfather  she  kept  her  head  bowed  as  low 
as  the  others.  Then  when  it  was  ended  she  sat  up  ex- 
pectantly, ready  for  the  first  meal  in  her  new  home. 
Something  of  the  sacredness  of  a  love-feast  seemed  to 
hover  round  the  table  for  the  girl,  but  Aunt  Sybilla 
began  very  matter-of-factly  to  pass  the  food  and  settle 
to  the  task  of  consuming  it. 

"  You  know,"  began  Sarah,  "  when  I  first  went  to — to 
the  mountain  I  thought  it  was  the  funniest  thing  to  say 
grace  every  meal-time." 

"  What ! "  exclaimed  Aunt  Sybilla.  "  Didn't  you  get 
learned  to  do  that  at  home  when  you  was  little  ?  " 

"In  Red  Rose  Court?"  laughed  the  girl.  "If  you 
could  see  that  place !  "  Then  her  face  grew  serious,  her 
voice  was  filled  with  the  appealing  tenderness  that  played 
such  havoc  upon  heart-strings.  "  You  people  can't  know 
what  it  means  to  me  to  have  a  real  home  after  so  many 
years  of  being  without  one ! " 


150   THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

"  Sarah,"  the  grandfather  told  her,  "  you  be  a  good  girl 
and  you  will  always  have  a  good  home  here." 

"  Yes  " — her  peculiarly  characteristic  reasoning  fol- 
lowed— "  I  believe  that,  but  don't  you  think  that  some- 
times when  people  don't  behave  is  just  the  time  they  need 
the  good  home  most?"  Her  words  left  the  others 
strangely  silent.  What  manner  of  girl  was  this?  Was 
she,  indeed,  of  their  own  flesh  and  blood?  Ah,  that 
despised,  detested  Irish  strain  in  her  must  be  responsible 
for  her  strange  beliefs  and  sayings  !  The  meal  was  rather 
a  silent  one.  Evidently  talking  and  eating  did  not  seem 
to  be  in  favor  at  the  same  time  in  that  home. 

"  Oh,"  thought  Sarah,  "  I'll  change  a  few  things  around 
here  if  I  stay  long  enough !  Perhaps  if  I  lick  them  into 
shape  they'll  be  a  first-class  family !  "  Her  face  lighted 
with  a  whimsical  smile. 

That  night  after  the  girl  had  been  piloted  up-stairs  by 
Aunt  Mary,  taught  to  light  the  oil  lamp  and  extinguish 
it,  there  was  a  family  conference  in  the  sitting-room 
down-stairs. 

"  She's  of  our  flesh  and  blood  and  it's  our  duty  to  keep 
her,"  said  the  old  man.  "  But  she  don't  seem  just  like 
the  girls  here  in  Fairview.  It  might  be  that  she  was  sent 
to  us  just  to  be  converted  and  pointed  to  the  light.  We 
don't  want  another  Burkhart  goin'  to  the  bad." 

Mary  nodded  quiet  approval.  But  Sybilla  was  slower 
to  acquiesce.  "  Well,"  she  deliberated,  "  it  looks  like  a 
big  job  to  make  a  quiet,  refined  girl  out  of  her,  but  mebbe 
like  pop  says  she  was  sent  here  for  the  salvation  of  her 
soul.  It's  plain  she  had  no  religious  teachin',  such  queer 
things  like  she  says,  such  dumb  ones,  and  kinda  makin' 
fun  of  holy  things.  Mebbe  we  can  make  a  Christian 
outa  her." 


LANCASTER  COUNTY  151 

And  so  began  the  reformation  of  Sarah  Burkhart,  the 
child  of  Red  Rose  Court  and  Sunset  Mountain  and 
simultaneously  began  the  reformation  of  Jeremiah  Burk- 
hart and  his  daughters ! 


CHAPTER  IX 

FAIRVIEW'S  RECEPTION 

SYBILLA  BURKHART  had  spoken  truly  when  she  said 
that  in  a  little  town  like  Fairview  the  news  of  the  new 
arrival  in  their  home  would  travel  rapidly.  The  majority 
of  residents  had  little  sympathy  for  the  father  of  Sarah. 
In  many  households  youths  prone  to  error  were  held  in 
check  by  the  dreadful  prediction,  "  If  you  don't  do  better 
you'll  go  to  the  bad  like  young  Jerry  Burkhart !  "  Thanks 
to  the  derelictions  of  the  said  Jerry  Burkhart  many 
youthful  propensities  to  evil  were  curbed  among  the  ris- 
ing generation  of  Fairview,  which  proves  the  theory  that 
even  in  wickedness  may  dwell  some  glimmer  of  good, 
some  valuable  by-product  be  derived  from  apparent  use- 
lessness.  But  the  town  had  long  since  listed  young  Jerry 
among  the  black,  hopelessly  black,  sheep  of  its  fold  and 
wondered  how  it  had  come  to  pass  that  so  righteous  a 
man  as  Jeremiah  senior  could  be  the  father  of  so  wicked 
a  son.  After  his  departure  from  Fairview  the  people 
felt  as  though  an  evil  influence  had  been  lifted  from  the 
place.  They  knew  of  his  marriage  with  the  dreadful 
woman,  but  of  his  later  life  and  incarceration  were  as 
ignorant  as  his  own  people  had  been  until  the  coming  of 
Sarah. 

Several  neighbors  had  seen  the  stranger  enter  and 
formed  various  conjectures  as  to  the  nature  of  her  er- 
rand. The  driver  of  the  Transfer  spread  the  news  that 
a  fine,  stylish  young  lady  had  asked  him  where  Jeremiah 


FAIRVIEW'S  RECEPTION  153 

Burkhart  lived  and  she  had  a  bag  and  looked  like  she 
came  to  stay  a  while.  But  all  doubt  as  to  the  transient- 
ness  of  the  visitor  was  answered  that  night  when  watch- 
ing neighbors  saw  the  screens  placed  in  the  windows  of 
the  front  spare  room  and  a  lamp  standing  on  the  bureau. 
That  settled  it ;  the  young  lady  had  come  to  stay,  at  least 
a  while.  For  everybody  knew  that  one-or-two-night  visi- 
tors to  the  Burkhart  house  were  placed  invariably  in  the 
little  spare  room  to  the  south  side  of  the  house ;  it  was 
only  the  lengthy  visit  that  caused  the  opening  of  the  big 
spare  room  facing  the  street. 

Urgent,  consuming  inquisitiveness  was  rampant  among 
the  people  on  the  street  near  by.  It  was  the  neighbor  di- 
rectly opposite  the  big  Burkhart  house  who  undertook  to 
gather  the  information.  She  discovered  very  opportunely 
that  she  had  in  her  kitchen  a  plate  belonging  to  the  Burk- 
hart girls  so  she  decided,  "  It's  about  time  to  take  that 
there  plate  back  once." 

Hence,  on  the  second  day  of  Sarah's  stay  in  her  new 
home,  while  she  and  Aunt  Mary  were  washing  the  break- 
fast dishes,  there  was  a  step  on  the  back  porch  and  a 
breezy  voice  called,  "  I  brought  back  your  plate  once. 
Guess  you  thought  we  eat  it  with  the  cake  but — land, 
you  got  company!  If  I'd  knowed  that  I'd  dressed!" 
She  swung  back  her  apron  and  tried  to  look  surprised. 

"  Come  in,  Mrs.  Roth,"  invited  Mary  Burkhart.  "  You 
might  just  as  good  meet  our  company  now.  This  is 
Sarah,  our  Jerry's  girl." 

"  Jeremiah's  girl !  "  Even  the  gossiping  Mrs.  Roth  was 
surprised.  She  had  never  dreamed  of  that  identity  for 
the  stranger !  "  Why,  I  didn't  know  he  had  any  chil- 
dren. My,  my,  that's  a  surprise !  Abody  don't  get  many 
in  this  little  town,  but  here's  one  once !  " 


154    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

"Yes,  it  will  give  Fairview  something  to  talk  over. 
Some  folks  got  ears  like  buckets  anyhow,  always  ready 
to  catch  something.  Now  I  guess  they'll  have  a  good 
time  tellin'  all  about  poor  Jerry  and  that  his  girl  is  with 
us.  Jeremiah  was  married,  you  knew  that." 

"Was?    Is  he  dead  then?    Or  her?" 

"  She's  dead,  but  he's  livin' "  the  woman  was  re- 
luctant to  place  on  exhibition  another  part  of  the  family 
skeleton.  But  the  curiosity  of  Mrs.  Roth  was  as  a 
ravenous  beast  and  hard  to  be  appeased. 

"  Then  if  he's  living  why  is  his  girl  here — only  on  a 
visit?" 

"  No,  she  come  to  stay." 

"Oh,"  cried  Sarah,  "let  me  tell  her.  Don't  try  to 
keep  it  a  secret  on  my  account."  Poor,  innocent  child 
had  no  knowledge  of  the  workings  of  small-town  gossips 
or  the  sharp  tools  of  their  trade. 

"  Well,"  said  Aunt  Mary  hesitatingly,  "  I  guess  abody 
might  as  good  tell  it  for  it  will  come  out  anyhow  soon. 
Jerry — he — he  done  wrong  and  is  in  jail!  " 

"  Jail !  You  don't  mean  it !  "  Mrs.  Roth's  eyes  posi- 
tively danced  with  amazement.  What  a  rare  bit  of  gos- 
sip she  was  unearthing  that  day !  "  Jail,  that's  just  where 
I  thought  he'd  wind  up!  My,  my,  how  hard  for  your 
pop  and  you  girls  to  have  such  a  disgrace.  It  must  be 
awful  to  know  your  brother  is  in  a  place  like  that! 
That's  one  thing  I  can  say  about  my  family,  there  ain't 
been  a  real  bad  one  in  that  I  remember." 

"  Oh,  tell  that  to  the  Marines,"  said  the  girl,  tossing 
her  head.  "  I  guess  every  tree  has  some  rotten  branches. 
But  I'll  tell  you,  Mrs.  Roth,  my  father  isn't  real  bad. 
He  made  money  by  counterfeiting  and  is  paying  for  it  all 
right  more  than  lots  of  people  pay  for  the  money  they 


FAIRVIEW'S  RECEPTION  155 

make  dishonestly.  There's  lots  worse  than  my  poor  fa- 
ther floating  around  loose." 

Mrs.  Roth  looked  at  the  girl,  aghast.  Her  glib  tongue 
failed  her  unaccountably  for  a  moment.  What  manner 
of  girl  was  this  ?  So  bold,  strange  in  speech,  disrespect- 
ful of  her  elders  and  betters — but  what  else  could  be  ex- 
pected of  a  daughter  of  young  Jerry  Burkhart ! 

"  Poor  Mary,"  she  sighed,  "  you  have  my  sympathy. 
It's  bad  enough  to  have  a  brother  in  jail  but  to  have  to 
be  afflicted  with  his  girl — my,  my !  But  mebbe  it's  good 
for  her  you  got  her  in  time,  then  you  can  reform  her." 

"  Oh,  no,"  interrupted  Sarah,  determined  to  shock  the 
busybody  further.  "  I  have  been  reformed !  I  spent  the 
last  six  years  in  a  reformatory  in  New  Jersey,  so  you  see 
I  am  all  right  now." 

"  A  reformatory !  Six  years ! "  What  an  orgy  of 
gossip-dispensing  was  in  store  for  Mrs.  Roth !  "  My,  my, 
what  a  cross  for  you  good  people !  It  wonders  me  some- 
times why  you  got  such  troubles  when  you  are  all  such 
good  people.  If  there  is  anything  I  can  do  to  help  you 
don't  mind  letting  me  know.  Me  and  Dan  are  only  too 
glad  to  help  the  neighbors  in  trouble."  Then  she  looked 
at  Sarah  as  though  the  girl  were  some  hitherto  undis- 
covered specie  of  utter  depravity.  It  might  have  been 
the  first  time  she  was  privileged  with  a  close  look  into  the 
face  of  a  girl  who  was  not  only  the  daughter  of  a  jail- 
bird, but  the  recent  inmate  of  a  reformatory.  She  ap- 
peared to  suspect  that  the  girl  would  poke  out  a  mocking 
tongue  or  screw  up  her  face  in  derision  of  her  betters, 
but  Sarah  looked  at  her  and  smiled  a  cryptic  smile  that 
left  the  gossip  wondering  what  it  meant,  as  the  thou- 
sands who  look  at  Mona  Lisa  each  year  are  wondering 
whence  and  why  that  smile. 


156    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

"  Well,  I  must  hurry  home,  I  got  work  to  do,"  and  the 
neighbor  took  her  leave,  thrilling  with  importance,  for 
she  carried  in  her  brain  the  details  of  the  star  gossip 
scoop  of  years. 

But  the  work  was  evidently  not  in  her  own  home.  If 
Mary  or  Sarah  had  been  in  the  parlor  fifteen  minutes 
later  they  would  have  seen  Mrs.  Roth  hurrying  up  the 
street.  She  meant  to  call  at  five  or  six  stores,  the  post- 
office,  the  bank,  the  dressmaker's,  the  cobbler  shop  and  at 
the  homes  of  several  close  friends  and  casually  mention 
the  news — Jeremiah  Burkhart  was  in  jail  for  counter- 
feiting and  his  daughter,  about  eighteen,  was  in  Fairview 
with  his  people  and  going  to  stay.  She  had  been  in  a 
reformatory  for  six  years — it  was  very  important  to  add 
that,  for  of  all  the  wayward  youths  of  Fairview  none 
ever  set  foot  in  a  reformatory.  Some  had  gotten  into 
scrapes  but  if  it  had  concerned  money  their  parents  had 
paid  the  damages  and  the  youths  were  left  free.  Not 
one,  of  all  the  long  list  of  boys  and  girls  born  and  reared 
in  Fairview,  had  ever  been  bad  enough  to  be  confined  in 
a  place  like  the  one  in  which  Sarah  had  spent  six  years. 
Six  years — that  proved  how  very,  very  bad  she  must  have 
been !  "  No  wonder  she  was  a  bold,  brazen  thing,  talk- 
ing so  to  me,"  was  the  thought  of  Mrs.  Roth  as  she 
hurried  to  the  home  of  a  friend. 

"  I  tell  you,"  she  confided  to  the  friend,  "  it  means  that 
we  keep  our  young  people  away  from  her.  She'll  spoil 
them  all.  I  remember  having  the  teacher  in  Sunday 
school  tell  us  once  about  a  man  who  had  a  whole  barrel 
of  good  apples  and  put  a  rotten  one  in  with  them  to  see 
if  the  good  ones  would  make  the  rotten  one  all  right. 
But  of  course,  the  one  rotten  one  spoiled  the  whole  barrel 
of  good  ones!  I  won't  have  my  Dan  running  around 


FAIRVIEW'S  RECEPTION  157 

with  any  girl  like  Sarah  Burkhart.  Even  if  she  is  related 
to  that  nice  family,  she  must  know  lots  of  bad  things  our 
girls  and  boys  don't  dream  of,  and  we  don't  want  to  have 
them  spoiled  by  her." 

After  Mrs.  Roth  left  Aunt  Mary  sighed. 

"  What's  the  trouble?  "  asked  Sarah.  "  Don't  you  like 
her,  either  ?  " 

"  What — why "  The  girl's  insight  was  uncanny. 

"  I  was  just  thinkin'  that  she  talks  too  much." 

"  Yes,"  agreed  Aunt  Sybilla  who  had  been  told  about 
the  early  morning  visitor.  "  I  guess  she  does.  She'll  be 
goin'  up  town  soon  to  tell  the  news." 

Sarah  laughed.  "  Walking  newspaper,  like  lots  of 
women !  But  I  wrote  a  poem  once  about  too  much  talk- 
ing. I'll  recite  it  to  you. 

"  The  owl  looks  wise  and  never  says  a  word, 
So  folks  pronounce  it  a  wise  old  bird. 
If  we  talked  less  while  going  to  and  fro 
No  one  could  tell  how  little  'tis  we  know ! " 

"  Now,  that  ain't  no  lie ! "  declared  Aunt  Sybilla. 
"  Abody  does  talk  too  much !  " 

So  Sarah  returned  to  the  home  of  her  father,  the  home 
where  she  had  dreamed  of  a  welcome;  happy  times  like 
parties,  Christmas  trees,  Easter  nests,  jolly  visitors.  Poor 
little  girl,  whose  only  recollection  of  a  home  was  the  en- 
graving of  the  squalid  hovels  in  Red  Rose  Court !  How 
long  until  her  hopes  be  materialized,  her  vaporous  rain- 
bows be  crystallized  into  reality  ? 

The  girl,  quick  to  detect  hostility  or  suspicion,  made 
wise  by  long  contact  with  trouble  and  misfortune,  was 
not  slow  in  finding  the  true  state  of  mind  concerning  her. 


158    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

The  double  stigma  branded  her  above  all  hope  of  re- 
demption or  fitness  for  friendship  with  the  correct  young 
people  of  Fairview.  So  thought  many  of  the  good  peo- 
ple of  that  little  town,  people  who  religiously  paid  tithe  in 
anise  and  mint  but  omitted  the  weightier  matters  of  char- 
ity and  forbearing  and  understanding.  It  was  the  same 
old  story  of  intolerant,  narrow  human  nature.  Wasn't 
it  too  great  a  risk  to  take  into  their  homes  a  girl  like 
Sarah,  and  invite  contamination  for  the  girls  who  had 
been  so  carefully  taught  and  guarded  from  all  evil! 
That  was  the  natural  attitude  of  every  mother  and  is  not 
without  justification.  Of  course  the  newcomer  was  en- 
titled to  any  help  they  could  give  her — the  missionary 
spirit  was  alive  in  the  little  town.  She  came  in  for  the 
same  consideration  as  the  heathens  in  Zanzibar  or  the 
cannibals  of  the  ocean  isles.  But  when  it  came  to  loving 
her,  associating  with  her,  taking  her  into  the  intimacy  of 
their  fine  homes — she  was  without  the  pale.  The  first 
Saturday  no  less  than  six  persons  called  at  the  Burkhart 
house  and  offered  to  take  Sarah  to  Sunday  school  if  she 
cared  to  go.  But  she  saw  through  the  ruse  and  shocked 
them  by  saying  she  didn't  think  she  wanted  to  go,  she 
had  to  go  to  church  every  Sunday  in  New  Jersey  and 
she  thought  a  change  would  be  pleasant.  At  any  rate, 
she  had  joined  the  Episcopal  Church  over  in  Jersey  and 
if  she  wanted  to  go  to  any  service  she  could  go  alone,  for 
that  church  stood  just  around  the  corner  from  her  house. 

Her  apparent  lack  of  interest  in  church  matters  did 
not  tend  to  lessen  the  prejudice  against  her.  She  was 
spoken  of  as  a  little  heathen,  probably  one  of  the  infidels 
who  have  no  thought  about  their  souls. 

But  Aunt  Sybilla  settled  for  Sarah  the  matter  of 
church  attendance.  The  first  Sunday  was  a  typical  Lan- 


FAIRVIEW'S  RECEPTION  159 

caster  County  spring  day,  with  robins  caroling,  sunshine 
spilling  gold  over  the  great  outdoors,  soft  winds  laden 
with  perfumes  like  the  scents  of  Araby.  It  was  a  day 
that  called,  invited,  lured  responsive  hearts  away  from 
walls  and  roofs.  Sarah  heard  its  call.  Such  a  day  she 
loved,  but  how  minor  the  portions  of  enjoyment  if  it  had 
to  be  spent  indoors. 

When  Aunt  Sybilla  asked  at  breakfast,  "  Sarah,  is  it 
true  what  you  told  Mrs.  Roth  and  them  other  ladies  what 
came  to  ask  you  go  along  to  church,  that  you  are  a 
Tiscopal?" 

"  Yes.  I  was  confirmed  two  years  ago  in  the  little 
church  at  the  foot  of  Sunset  Mountain." 

"  Well,  then  I  guess  you  want  to  go  to  that  church. 
But  anyhow,  you  got  to  go  somewheres  every  Sunday. 
Long  as  you  live  in  our  house  you  keep  the  Sabbath 
right.  You  dare  go  to  your  own  or  whenever  you  want  a 
simple  service  that  mebbe  might  do  you  more  good  than 
all  that  funny  Tiscopal  foolin'  with  gettin'  up  and  down 
all  the  time,  then  you  come  along  with  us  to  Mennonite 
once." 

"  I'll  go  with  you  this  morning,"  she  decided,  not  so 
much  in  the  hope  of  enjoying  or  profiting  by  a  simple 
service  as  with  the  youthful  desire  to  find  something 
novel. 

"  I'm  glad,"  said  the  aunt,  "  for  in  this  house  every- 
body goes  to  church  anyhow  once  on  Sunday  unless 
they're  sick  or  something." 

"  Well,  I  generally  have  a  weak  spell  every  Sunday," 
said  the  girl  roguishly,  but  her  aunt  failed  to  see  the 
humor  of  it.  There  was  not  one  spark  of  Irish  in  Aunt 
Sybilla,  that  was  plain ! 

"  What  for  dumb  talk  is  that  ?  "  she  asked,  frowning. 


160         THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB; 

"  We  don't  make  fun  at  church  goin' !  Get  yourself 
ready  soon  so  we  can  start  early,  Sarah.  We  don't  get 
late  to  church,  we  don't ! " 

The  girl's  interest  in  new  things  was  fully  alive  that 
Sunday  morning  as  she  sat  in  the  Mennonite  Meeting 
House  with  her  new-found  family.  What  a  strange  place 
it  was,  in  her  opinion !  Bare,  white  walls,  no  musical 
instrument,  no  cushioned  seats  or  carpeted  aisles !  It 
brought  her  a  curious  sense  of  peace.  Through  the  wide 
open  windows  came  the  sound  of  singing  robins,  the 
twitter  of  busy  sparrows,  and  occasionally  the  sweet  call 
of  a  song  sparrow  as  it  swayed  on  a  branch  within  sight 
of  the  girl.  As  the  service  progressed  the  girl's  feeling 
of  peace  deepened.  How  wonderful  it  must  be  to  go 
through  life  with  the  calm  serenity  of  the  white-capped 
women,  but  the  disturbing  thought  intruded — were  not 
the  lives  of  the  plain  women  sometimes  at  variance  with 
the  very  calmness  they  sought  to  express  by  their  plain 
clothes?  Did  not  storms  rage,  passions  trouble,  sorrows 
burden  the  hearts  under  the  plain  dresses?  Ah,  life  was 
such  a  riddle,  thought  the  child  who  had  seen  so  many 
of  its  worst  aspects. 

Once  as  she  looked  at  her  grandfather  her  heart 
thrilled.  How  strong  he  appeared,  how  like  a  prophet, 
a  veritable  Jeremiah!  And  he  was  hers,  a  part  of  her 
family,  her  ancestor  of  whom  she  might  boast  as  she  had 
read  people  sometimes  did!  A  man  like  that  to  be  the 
father  of  a — a — she  could  not  think  the  word  in  the  quiet 
Mennonite  Church!  In  that  same  place  her  father  had 
sat  and  swung  his  legs  impatiently  at  the  tediousness  of 
the  preachers,  now  he  languished  behind  barred  windows 
and  heavy  doors.  What  was  wrong,  whose  the  fault  ? 

Some  idea  of  what  it  cost  her  grandfather  to  sit  there 


FAIRVIEW'S  RECEPTION  161 

calmly  under  the  gaze  of  pitying  friends  who  must  be 
thinking  of  the  son,  came  to  her.  Poor  grandfather,  for 
the  first  time  she  began  to  see  that  perhaps  he  had  done 
his  duty  as  he  saw  it,  that  his  heart  must  ache  for  the 
erring  boy.  He  looked  sadder  than  upon  that  first  day 
when  she  had  surprised  him  by  announcing  her  relation- 
ship to  him.  "  Poor  grandfather,  I  am  going  to  try  hard 
to  like  him  and  please  him.  Guess  this  business  of  havin' 
a  son  wander  off  hasn't  been  a  very  happy  one  for  him, 
either.  These  are  my  people  and  it  seems  to  be  my  duty 
to  adapt  myself  to  their  ways  so  far  as  I  can  ever  do 
that,  if  I  want  to  stay  with  them.  After  all,  it's  hard 
luck  to  have  a  girl  drop  from  the  skies  and  say,  '  I'm 
your  granddaughter,  so  take  care  of  me  and  love  me.'  I 
did  have  a  nerve !  But  I'm  here  and  goin'  to  stay  for  a 
while  and  get  acquainted." 

The  coming  of  the  new  member  of  the  family  did  not 
disturb  the  household  to  any  visible  extent.  Old  Jere- 
miah went  to  his  hardware  store  as  usual,  cane  in  hand, 
face  set  and  solemn.  Sybilla  capably  managed  the  af- 
fairs of  the  home,  worked  in  the  garden  and  house,  while 
Mary  was  content  to  do  the  tasks  the  elder  sister  left  to 
her  and  Sarah  fitted  in  at  so  many  places  that  she  won- 
dered, after  a  few  weeks,  how  they  ever  got  along  with- 
out her.  Her  willing  hands  could  relieve  the  women  of 
many  tasks  and  earned  for  her  the  first  praise  of  Aunt 
Sybilla,  "  You're  real  handy.  They  had  some  sense  up 
there  where  you  lived,  for  they  learned  you  to  cook  and 
work  and  be  of  some  use." 

"  I'm  glad  I  can  help  you,  then  I  shall  feel  less  like  a 
parasite." 

"What's  that?" 

"  Things  that  live  off  others." 


162    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

*..  a 

"  Um,  well,  there's  plenty  of  them  around  without  you 
bein'  one  yet !  " 

Her  commendation  was  sweet  to  the  girl  and  gave  her 
courage  to  ask  a  question  she  had  longed  to  ask  during 
the  week  and  more  of  her  stay  in  the  new  home — "  Aunt 
Sybilla " 

"Well,  what?" 

"  Why,  when  will  I  learn  to  know  some  girls  ?  I  see 
some  pass  in  the  evenings,  some  nice-looking  ones  who  I 
think  I'd  like,  but  how  am  I  going  to  get  acquainted  with 
them?" 

"  Guess  not  at  all  unless  they  take  it  in  their  heads  to 
come  and  see  you.  But  I  don't  believe  they  want  to  meet 
you  very  bad,  seein'  how  it's  all  around  town  that  your 
pop  is  in  jail  and  you  was  in  a  place  for  bad  girls  for 
six  years."  The  bluntness  of  the  words  almost  staggered 
the  girl,  who  knew  so  little  of  some  of  the  ways  of  the 
world. 

"  You  mean,  you  think,  that  because  my  father  is  where 
he  is  I  must  be  treated  like  a  leper  ?  " 

"  Ach,  don't  talk  so  dumb!  Like  a  leper!  I  guess  if 
you  was  that  you'd  find  something  else  out !  " 

"  Well,"  cried  the  girl,  her  old  childish  temper  mount- 
ing, "  I'd  just  as  soon  be  one  as  to  be  treated  like  you 
say ;  everybody  runs  from  me !  " 

Some  innate  sympathy  stirred  in  the  woman  as  she 
saw  the  distress  on  the  face  of  the  girl.  It  was  too  bad ! 
"  Now,"  she  said  soothingly,  "  you  wait  a  while,  mebbe 
some  of  the  nice  girls  will  come  round.  I  guess  they 
ain't  all  afraid  of  you.  You  must  act  nice  and  show 
them  you  aren't  poison.  You  take  the  pocketbook  and 
go  to  the  store  at  the  corner  for  some  sugar." 

She  did  as  she  was  bid,  but  there  was  none  of  her 


FAIRVIEW'S  RECEPTION  163 

wonted  springing  lightness  in  her  steps  as  she  started  up 
the  tree-shaded  street.  Was  Aunt  Sybilla  right  in  her 
conjecture?  Would  the  young  people  of  the  town  ignore 
her  because  of  what  had  happened  in  past  years?  She 
had  been  an  innocent  victim  of  circumstances,  but  she 
knew  that  did  not  always  prevent  injustice.  Perhaps 
Aunt  Sybilla  was  soured ;  what  could  she  know  about  the 
hearts  of  youth !  But  even  as  her  hopelessness  gave  way 
to  brighter  things  her  attention  was  arrested  by  the  sound 
of  her  name.  The  next  moment  she  became  an  unwilling 
listener  to  two  girls  loitering  inside  a  half-opened  door- 
way— "  That  dreadful  Burkhart  girl !  Imagine  Mary 
Becker  saying  she  is  going  to  call  on  her  and  try  to  get 
her  in  our  crowd !  We  all  told  Mary  we'd  cut  her  dead 
if  she  dared  to  do  it.  Of  course  that  girl  is  good  looking 
with  wonderful  eyes  and  black  hair  but  who  wants  to 
associate  with  her  ?  Mrs.  Roth  says " 

What  Mrs.  Roth  had  said  Sarah  could  supply  from 
her  imagination.  She  went  to  the  store,  her  brain  saying 
over  and  over  like  a  worn-out  song,  "  Why  did  I  come 
here  ?  They  don't  want  me,  they  don't  want  me !  " 

At  the  store  a  smile  came  her  way  and  she  was  grate- 
ful for  it  as  a  starving  child  for  bread.  It  came  from  a 
little  old  woman,  who  spoke  atrocious  English,  but  it 
warmed  the  heart  of  the  girl. 

"  How  you  like  Fairview  by  now  ?  Pretty  good,  ain't  ? 
It  is  a  nice  place  when  you  are  acquainted  around  once. 
How  are  the  old  girls  to-day,  pretty  good?  Fine  girls, 
they  are  fine  girls !  Here  are  a  few  peppermints.  I  like 
them  still  for  when  I  don't  feel  so  right.  Mebbe  you 
like  them?" 

Sarah  accepted  the  offering  in  the  same  spirit  in  which 
she  knew  it  was  bestowed  and  some  of  the  weight  of 


her  heart  rolled  away  as  she  returned  to  her  home.  But 
the  burden  was  too  great  to  be  cast  off  with  her  cus- 
tomary Irish  cheerfulness.  Her  heart  was  suddenly  ach- 
ing as  it  had  not  done  for  years.  All  the  pent  up  desires 
for  home  and  family  love,  denied  through  the  formative 
years  of  her  life,  and  thus  intensified  into  an  obsession, 
struggled  within  her.  To  be  an  outcast  after  all,  to  have 
the  girls  continue  passing  her,  gay,  laughing  groups,  to 
be  shut  from  pleasures  and  lose  her  place  at  the  very 
moment  when  it  seemed  she  was  coming  into  her  own — 
it  was  too  much  for  the  girl  and  she  ran  from  the  house 
to  find  some  place  where  she  could  cry  out  all  her  pain 
and  grief. 


CHAPTER  X 

IN  THE  CHERRY  TREE 

IN  the  big  lot  to  the  rear  of  the  Burkhart  house  stood 
half  a  dozen  cherry  trees.  Sarah  had  exclaimed  at  their 
mass  of  blossoms  and  several  times  had  climbed  into  one 
to  get  closer  to  their  beauty.  It  was  there  she  ran  that 
hour  of  her  travail.  She  swung  up  on  a  low  branch, 
white  as  a  bridal  bower  in  its  mass  of  flowers,  then 
climbed  farther  into  the  white  loveliness  and  buried  her 
face  in  the  cherry  blossoms  and  cried.  Great  sobs  shook 
her,  her  breath  came  in  gasping,  choking  efforts.  When 
the  worst  agony  was  over  a  dull  pain  still  held  her. 

"  I  don't  care,"  she  said  aloud,  "  it  isn't  fair !  Even  if 
I  am  a  reformatory  girl  and  the  daughter  of  a  criminal 
I  can  be  all  right.  How  does  any  one  of  these  people  in 
Fairview  know  that  I  am  not  fit  to  associate  with  them? 
It  isn't  fair !  Miss  Hughes  didn't  think  I  was  so  dreadful 
a  creature — why  didn't  I  stay  with  her?  Here  they 
think  I'm  bad,  bad " 

"  Who  is  this  that's  bad  ?  "  a  strange  voice  asked  and 
startled  the  girl  so  that  she  almost  fell  out  of  the  cherry 
tree.  She  looked  about.  Just  over  the  fence  in  the  ad- 
joining lot  stood  a  young  man  looking  up  at  her.  Then 
she  remembered  that  Aunt  Mary  had  told  her  the  rector 
of  St.  Paul's  Episcopal  Church  lived  in  the  house  next 
door.  But  surely  this  young  man  was  too  ridiculously 
young  to  be  rector  of  a  church !  Some  visitor  probably, 
and  an  inquisitive  one!  He  had  heard /her  cry!  Of 


166    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

course  it  would  be  her  luck  to  have  some  person  see  and 
hear  her  when  she  made  a  baby  of  herself ! 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  she  demanded  crossly. 

At  that  the  young  man  jumped  over  the  low  fence  and 
stood  under  the  tree  in  which  she  was  perched. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  he  retaliated. 

She  looked  at  him  and  found  him  to  be  a  comely  crea- 
ture, clean,  smiling,  with  kind  eyes.  Her  first  impulse 
to  send  him  away  died. 

"  Who  am  I  ?  "  she  said.  "  A  dreadful  person !  A 
regular  ogress!  'Better  go  away  from  me  before  you 
become  contaminated." 

"  As  bad  as  all  that?"  he  asked,  his  eyes  smiling  ref- 
utation of  her  words.  He  had  nice  eyes,  she  decided, 
brown,  but  it  was  not  the  color,  rather  the  warm  glow  in 
them  that  held  her  attention.  Could  one  lie  to  eyes  like 
that? 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  suddenly  finding  the  stranger  trust- 
worthy, "  the  people  of  Fairview  think  I'm  that  and 
worse !  Guess  you  heard  that  Jeremiah's  granddaughter 
came  to  his  house  and  that  her  father  is  in  jail  and  she 
has  been  in  a  reformatory  for  six  years — could  anything 
be  worse  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know — that  does  sound  pretty  bad,  but 
then  things  are  not  what  they  seem " 

"  Longfellow  said  that." 

"  He  did — you  know  that?  Who  are  you  to  be  up  in 
Jeremiah's  cherry  tree  and  knowing  poetry?  You  said 
something  about  his  granddaughter — are  you  that?  I 
didn't  know  there  was  such  a  person.  You  see  I  have 
been  out  of  town  for  a  week  and  haven't  heard  the  news 
yet." 

"  Then  if  you  like  gossip  you  have  a  wonderful  treat 


IN  THE  CHERRY  TREE  167 

in  store  for  you !  Everybody  knows  about  me,  Jeremiah 
Burkhart's  granddaughter." 

"  I  didn't  know  there  was  such  a  person." 

"  Neither  did  he  until  last  week.  I  dropped  from  the 
skies,  and  I'm  thinking  it  was  his  unlucky  day." 

"  But  why  all  the— the  — 

"The  tears?"  she  helped  him.  Of  course  he  had 
heard  her  cry !  "  Oh,  I'm  sore  because  I  don't  fit  here 
and  I  did  so  want  to." 

"  What's  to  hinder  ?  Isn't  there  lots  of  room  in  that 
big  house  and  can't  you  be  a  help  and  comfort  to  old 
Jeremiah  and  his  daughters  ?  " 

"  Comfort !  "  The  girl's  clear,  rippling  laughter  rang 
out  and  at  the  sound  he  started.  He  had  never  heard  so 
gay,  unaffected  a  laugh.  It  was  infectious  and  he  heard 
his  own  deeper  one  join  it.  "  Oh,  but  you're  funny !  " 
she  told  him.  "  Comfort !  About  as  much  comfort  as 
sleeping  on  a  bed  of  tacks,  points  up,  that's  what !  No, 
whoever  you  are,  kind  sir,  I  tell  you  I'm  not  in  the 
right  place.  Somewhere  I  read  a  poem  once  that  began 
like  this,  '  He  drew  a  circle  that  shut  me  out,  heretic, 
rebel,  a  thing  to  flout ' — I  don't  know  the  rest,  but  I 
guess  that  suits  me.  They  think  I'm  a  rebel,  heretic  and 
most  everything  I  shouldn't  be."  A  sarcastic  note  crept 
into  her  voice.  "  The  good  people  of  this  town  are  afraid 
I'll  spoil  their  dear,  sweet,  lovely  sons  and  daughters  and 
that  is  why  I  sit  alone  in  a  cherry  tree,  or  work  with  old- 
maid  aunts,  or  look  at  the  chickens  while  the  other  girls 
laugh  and  have  a  good  time.  Oh,  I'm  hurt  and  mad — 
go  on  with  you  and  leave  me  alone !  I  want  to  cry !  " 

"  No  you  don't.  You  want  to  come  down  from  that 
tree  and  talk  to  me." 

"  With  you?    I  don't !  "  she  said  decidedly. 


168    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

"  Please,"  his  voice  was  coaxing  and  gentle,  "  do  let's 
get  acquainted." 

Sarah  pursed  her  lips,  pondered  a  moment,  then  smiled 
down  at  him  and  started  to  climb  from  the  tree. 

"  See,  I'm  part  Irish  and  when  you  are  kind  and  good 
to  me  I'm  just  like  putty."  She  gave  one  leap  and  stood 
before  him.  "  Who  are  you  ?  " 

"  One  who  is  interested  in  you  and  wants  to  help  you." 

"  Oh,  then  you  are  the  rector !  "  She  spoke  as  though 
it  were  an  accusation. 

His  face  flushed  at  her  tone.  "  Is  that  so  dreadful  ?  *' 
he  asked. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  never  saw  a  live  rector  except  in 
church.  Never  had  one  climb  over  the  fence  and  talk  to 
me  while  I  was  up  in  a  cherry  tree.  But  all  the  preachers 
I  ever  heard  of  want  to  uplift  you  and  help  you  no 
matter  whether  you  want  to  be  helped  or  not.  I  hope 
you're  not  that  kind  for  I  have  to  live  next  door  to  you 
as  long  as  I  stay  in  Fairview.  I'm  not  looking  for  good 
advice,  either,  for  I  have  enough  of  that  bottled  up  in 
my  brain  to  keep  a  regiment  of  incorrigibles  going  for 
years.  Why  the — I  was  going  to  say  dickens  but  I  re- 
membered in  time — why  the  Sam  Hill  doesn't  some  one 
tell  you  preachers  that  if  you'd  treat  us  like  human  be- 
ings instead  of  wooden  things  to  be  shaved  off  here  and 
pared  down  there  to  fit  your  mould  you'd  have  an  easier 
time  to  reform  us  !  " 

"You  think  we  fail?" 

"  I  don't  think,  I  know  you  do,  too  often.  Every  one 
of  the  people  of  Fairview  who  thinks  I'm  too  bad  to 
associate  with  their  children  would  be  willing  to  dig 
after  money  in  their  pockets  and  give  to  the  heathen  or 
any  other  good  purpose,  but  the  heathen  in  their  midst 


IN  THE  CHERRY  TREE  169 

is  too  much  for  them.  Lordy,  I  wish  they'd  seen  me  six 
years  ago ! "  The  thought  of  the  ragged  little  girl  who 
left  Red  Rose  Court  sent  her  into  laughter.  The  rector 
had  again  the  feeling  of  being  refreshed  by  the  clarity 
and  sincerity  of  that  laughter.  "  Too  bad  I  didn't  come 
to  Fairview  when  I  went  to  Sunset  Mountain !  Bet  Mrs. 
Roth  would  have  hung  a  smallpox  sign  on  me  then! 
Never  mind,  I'm  not  going  to  mind,  at  least  not  show 
them  that  I  do  mind.  If  I  ran  away  from  them  they'd 
be  tickled  to  death  so  I  think  I'll  stay.  I'll  get  Mrs. 
Roth's  goat  yet !  Her  Dan  looked  at  me  yesterday  when 
I  went  to  the  store  on  an  errand  for  Aunt  Mary.  You 
know  he  works  for  grandfather.  He  looks  like  a  simple- 
ton, but  she  thinks  he's  made  of  gold.  Of  course  he's 
way  above  me,  but  if  he  weren't  working  for  grandfa- 
ther I'd  have  slapped  him  in  the  face  yesterday  for  the 
way  he  looked  at  me." 

The  man  regarded  the  girl.  What  manner  of  young 
woman  was  this  new  neighbor ?  "I  see,"  he  told  her, 
"  you  are  different  from  the  run  of  young  people  but  that 
does  not  say  that  you  are  below  them.  It  may  be  a  very 
delightful  superiority  when  one  comes  to  know  you 
better.  You  will  surely  find  a  way  into  the  affections 
of  some  of  the  nice  girls  in  town.  Wouldn't  you  like  to 
come  to  Sunday  school " 

'"Et  tu,  Brutus!'"  Then  she  laughed.  "All  the 
missionaries  of  the  town  called  last  week  to  take  me  but 
I  declined  with  thanks." 

"  I  thought  you'd  meet  the  young  people  that  way." 

"  I  see,  your  motive  is  all  right."  She  read  in  his  face 
a  desire  to  help  her  feel  less  keenly  the  aloofness  of  the 
town  people.  "  I  will  come,"  she  promised,  slightly  irri- 
tated to  have  him  think  that  she  needed  the  Sunday 


170    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

school.  "  I  will  come  and  I'll  make  some  of  those  peo- 
ple like  me.  Miss  Hughes  used  to  say  I  have  a  magnetic 
personality,  but  I  won't  believe  it  until  I  get  the  people 
to  like  this  '  heretic,  rebel,  a  thing  to  flout.'  You  think 
I'm  that,  too!  I  see  it  in  your  face.  Oh,  don't  bother 
denying  it,  it  isn't  worth  the  effort,"  she  said  as  he  would 
have  protested  at  her  uncanny  insight  into  his  heart. 
"  I  can't  blame  people,  I  suppose.  I  have  to  prove  I'm 
not  what  they  think." 

"I  haven't  offended  you?"  His  voice  was  troubled. 
Had  he  bungled  in  his  effort  to  help  the  girl? 

"  Oh,  no.  I'm  not  easily  hurt,  I  wear  a  pretty  stout 
armor.  I  don't  often  let  myself  go  and  climb  into  trees 
to  cry.  Pshaw,  I  wish  I  knew  the  rest  of  that  heretic 
poem ! " 

"  I  do — '  But  love  and  I  had  the  wit  to  win,  we  drew  a 
circle  that  took  him  in.'  " 

She  repeated  it  after  him,  then  gave  a  soft,  "  Whew ! 
Some  circle !  But  I  am  going  to  draw  it !  Watch  me ! 
You  are  the  first  kind  person  I  met  since  I  came  to  Fair- 
view,  except  Aunt  Mary,  and  the  woman  at  the  little 
store  on  the  corner — she  doled  out  peppermints  to  me 
one  day- — and  the  old  man  who  drives  the  Transfer — 
why,  that  isn't  so  bad  after  all!  I  really  didn't  know  I 
have  been  the  recipient  of  so  much  kindness  until  I 
stopped  to  name  them  all.  Guess  I'll  manage  in  Fair- 
view,  after  all.  You  bolstered  up  my  wobbly  courage 
and  now  I  feel  ready  to  tackle  anything.  Aunt  Mary 
is  lovely  to  me,  but  tell  me,  did  you  ever  see  Aunt  Sy- 
billa  laugh  ?  Honest  now !  " 

"  Not  very  often,"  he  admitted,  smiling. 

"  I  knew  it.  I'm  glad  for  one  thing,  that  the  Lord 
put  some  Irish  into  me  so  I  know  how  to  laugh.  Is  there 


IN  THE  CHERRY  TREE  171 

Irish  in  you?  If  we  are  going  to  be  neighbors  and  you 
are  going  to  have  a  hand  in  my  reform  I  ought  to  know 
your  name,  I'm  thinking." 

"  Yes.    It's  James  Snavely." 

"  Reverend  James  Snavely,"  she  repeated.  "  I  like  the 
sound  of  it.  Are  you  Pennsylvania  Dutch — but  I  sup- 
pose not,  for  you  don't  speak  like  most  of  them  do." 

"  I  am  one,"  he  said  it  proudly.  "  I  was  born  on  a 
farm  near  Fairview,  but  we  moved  in  to  town  when  I 
was  about  twelve  and  here  I  spent  my  days  until  time 
to  go  away  to  college.  I  had  my  course  in  New  En- 
gland but  when  I  was  ready  to  preach  I  felt  I  wanted 
to  come  back  to  my  own  people,  so  here  I  am." 

"  I  see.  Live  alone  in  that  big  house  or  have  you  a 
wife?" 

"  No  wife.  I  have  a  housekeeper,  a  very  nice  old 
lady,  a  widow  some  sixty  years  old.  Her  greatest  pleas- 
ure is  to  spoil  me,  cook  me  dishes  I  like,  keep  the  place 
like  a  new  pin,  just  because  she  used  to  know  my  mother 
and  feels  sorry  for  me." 

"Of  course,"  agreed  the  girl,  with  a  twinkle  in  her 
eyes.  "  She  couldn't  possibly  like  you  a  little  bit  for  your 
own  sake,  it's  all  on  account  of  your  mother!  But 
haven't  you  any  aunts  or  anybody  could  live  with  you  ?  " 

"  No,  I'm  the  last  of  the  family.  Haven't  a  relative 
nearer  than  third  cousins." 

"Ah,  I'm  sorry."  Her  words  embraced  him  like  a 
mother's  arms.  "  Then  you  haven't  a  home,  either  ?  " 

"  I  can't  say  that,  exactly." 

"  No,  you  can't,  but  it's  the  truth  just  the  same.  Living 
with  an  old  woman  to  keep  house  isn't  having  a  real 
home." 

He  frowned  at  her  perspicacity,  then  changed  to  a 


172    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

smile  as  he  read  in  her  face  the  sadness  she  was  striving 
so  valiantly  to  conceal. 

"  Are  we  going  to  be  friends  then,  companions  in 
exile  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Poor  homeless  creatures,"  she  added.  "  But  you 
aren't  in  the  same  boat  with  me.  You  are  among  the 
elect  while  I  am  in  the  heretic,  rebel  class.  Oh,  I'm  glad 
I  met  you  for  now  I  know  the  other  two  lines  of  that 
poem." 

"  Yes.  I  am  glad  I  met  you  for  we  want  to  be  friends. 
You  must  have  some  good  times  like  other  young  girls 
of  the  town." 

"  Oh,  thank  you ! "  She  took  his  hand  impulsively, 
then  dropped  it,  embarrassed.  What  could  she  know 
about  etiquette?  How  could  she  tell  beforehand  the  thrill 
that  would  make  her  breathless  as  she  touched  his  hand  ? 
For  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  was  self-conscious  and 
her  face  flushed  with  timidity. 

He  came  to  her  rescue  by  taking  her  right  hand  and 
giving  it  the  cordial  clasp  he  gave  his  church  attendants 
after  the  service,  a  rather  impersonal  yet  friendly  shake. 
"  We  are  going  to  be  friends  and  you  are  going  to  be 
happy !  Just  keep  on  thinking  that  and  it  will  happen." 

"  Laws,"  she  cried,  "  you  sound  like  Mrs.  Maloney. 
She  used  to  say  that  if  you  thought  long  enough  and 
hard  enough  about  a  thing  you'd  get  it  if  you  went  after 
it!" 

"  That  sounds  interesting.  Will  you  tell  me  about  Mrs. 
Maloney  some  day?" 

"  I'd  be  glad  to.  I  can  tell  you  lots  of  things  about 
the  slums  you  never  knew  and  won't  believe  unless 
you  know  I'm  a  bum  liar  and  take  my  word  for 
them." 


IN  THE  CHERRY  TREE  173 

"Yes "  again  the  word  was  drawn  into  a  long 

question.  Here  was  a  new  aspect  on  the  problem  of 
souls.  A  child  of  the  slums  ready  to  teach  him.  How 
could  the  girl,  attractive,  though  not  beautiful,  be  a 
product  of  the  slums?  But  there  was  good  blood  in  her 
veins,  perhaps  that  accounted  for  it.  Circumstances  had 
taken  her  to  the  places  of  squalor  and  sin  but  she,  surely, 
was  undefiled  by  contact  with  them.  For  all  her  slang, 
uncouthness  of  speech  and  strange  ways  of  expression 
she  bore  evidence  of  fineness  that  unhealthful  environ- 
ment could  not  take  from  her.  She  was  worthy  of  ef- 
forts to  help  and  certainly  she  had  a  right  to  a  happy 
girlhood. 

Aunt  Sybilla's  voice  broke  into  the  revery  of  the  man : 

"  Sarah,  where  in  the  world  did  you  get  to  ?  " 

The  man  and  girl  turned  to  the  house.  Aunt  Sybilla 
stood  at  the  kitchen  door  waiting  for  them. 

"  Sarah,  this  long  time  a'ready  I  called  you  that  it's 
time  to  peel  potatoes.  Next  your  grandpap  will  get  home 
and  no  meal  made  yet.  Howdedo,  Mr.  Snavely,"  she 
greeted  her  neighbor,  "  did  you  get  back  from  your  trip?  " 
Her  voice  was  none  too  cordial.  She  didn't  think  much 
of  "  them  'Piscopals  "  and  wondered  why  he  wanted  to 
talk  with  Sarah. 

"  Yes,  thank  you,"  he  answered  complacently.  "  I 
was  getting  acquainted  with  your  niece." 

"  So.    I  guess  you  was  surprised  too." 

"  Greatly.  I  have  been  telling  her  she  should  come  to 
Sunday  school  and  meet  some  of  the  young  people  of 
the  town  then  she  can  have  a  much  better  time." 

"  Umph,"  Aunt  Sybilla  evidently  did  not  agree.  "  I 
guess  Sarah  won't  have  much  time  to  be  runnin'  round. 
It's  the  idle  hands  get  in  mischief." 


174    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURS 

"  Yes,"  added  the  girl,  "  but  the  busy  ones  go  the  fast- 
est when  the  devil  gets  them  won  over." 

Aunt  Sybilla  frowned  at  the  mention  of  the  ruler  of 
the  lower  regions.  Her  look  spoke  unmistakably  that 
she  thought  the  girl  needed  a  strong  hand  over  her. 
Sarah  laughed,  said  good-bye  to  the  neighbor  and  went 
in  to  peel  the  potatoes  while  the  man  vaulted  across  the 
hedge  that  divided  the  side  yards. 

As  Sarah  worked  in  the  kitchen  doing  the  menial  tasks 
necessary  to  the  preparation  of  a  meal  her  thoughts  were 
far  above  such  common  things  as  potatoes  or  ham. 
Romance  burned  brightly  within  her  starved  heart,  some 
legacy  from  the  Irish  actress  mother  invested  every  minor 
shred  of  it  with  glory.  The  meeting  with  the  rector  was 
an  event  in  her  life,  which  however  colorful  it  had  been, 
still  lacked  the  girl  and  boy  romances  most  people  of  her 
age  had  experienced.  During  her  years  of  adolescence 
when  thrills  and  quickening  heart  beats  are  a  portion  of 
each  day  Sarah,  secluded  in  the  mountain  reformatory, 
had  never  felt  the  stirring  of  girlhood  romances  save  as 
they  came  to  her  through  reading  the  books  Miss  Hughes 
had  wisely  given  her — Tennyson,  Dickens,  Riley,  and 
many  others  which  can  safely  be  placed  into  the  hands 
of  receptive  youth.  Sarah  had  read  and  reread  them 
eagerly;  her  heart  sang  as  she  learned  the  story  of  the 
knights  or  followed  the  varied  experiences  of  Sydney 
Carton,  Tiny  Tim,  David  Copperfield  and  a  score  of 
other  Dickensonian  favorites.  'But,  after  all,  that  was 
mere  reading,  tame  and  colorless  compared  with  flesh 
and  blood  heroes.  And  the  Reverend  James  Snavely  was 
all  that  could  be  desired  in  the  way  of  a  real  hero  so  far 
as  appearance  and  personality  went.  Mothers  of  eligible 
daughters  sighed  and  manceuvered  but  so  far  the  rector 


IN  THE  CHERRY  TREE  175 

of  St.  Paul's  had  proven  impregnable.  Courteous, 
charming,  delightfully  cordial  to  all,  showing  no  favorit- 
ism to  any,  he  went  about  his  work  in  the  little  parish. 

James  Snavely  was,  as  he  had  proudly  told  Sarah, 
Pennsylvania  Dutch,  a  splendid  example  of  a  polished, 
educated  one.  But  the  polish  had  not  marred  his  genuine, 
wholesome  qualities,  it  had  rather  accentuated  and  in- 
tensified them,  so  that  all  the  innate  sterling  of  him  shone 
from  his  life.  But  the  little  town  of  Fairview  gave  no 
special  heed  to  the  man.  Of  course  the  people  respected 
him  and  liked  him  for  his  smiling,  unaffected  greetings 
to  them,  praised  his  finest  oratorical  efforts  as  "  pretty 
good  preachin'  "  and  sometimes  wondered  why  he  didn't 
try  to  get  a  church  in  some  city  and  earn  bigger  money. 
That  was  a  natural  query  for  there  he  might  have  ex- 
panded and  become  a  power,  but  the  hold  of  his  own 
was  strong  upon  him.  There  was,  in  his  thoughts,  no 
place  quite  so  lovely  or  desirable  as  Lancaster  County, 
and  there  he  chose  to  work  in  the  little  parish  with  a 
handful  of  people  who  liked  him.  And  so,  without  any 
of  the  spectacular  about  him  to  force  attention,  he  went 
about  every  day  doing  the  work  of  the  parish,  reading 
the  prayers,  burying  the  dead,  uniting  in  holy  matrimony, 
serving  without  any  desires  for  wider  spheres,  knowing, 
as  would  all  of  his  profession  might  know! — that  there 
is  no  limit  to  the  scope  of  a  man's  work,  that  the  results 
of  honest  endeavor  can  and  do  overflow  the  bounds  of 
the  narrow  parish.  Like  Tennyson's  expression  of  it, 
"  Our  echoes  roll  from  soul  to  soul,  and  grow  forever 
and  forever." 

The  Reverend  James  Snavely  had  lived  most  of  his 
boyhood  in  the  same  little  town  where  later  he  came  to 
preach.  Perhaps  that  was  a  mistake  on  his  part,  for 


176    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

though  familiarity  does  not  always  breed  contempt  it  has 
a  strong  tendency  to  lessen  proper  deference. 

Who  in  Fairview  did  not  know  of  the  time  the  young 
Jimmie  Snavely  put  a  tick-tack  tfn  an  old  maid's  window 
one  merry  Hallowe'en  and  was  rewarded  by  a  pitcher  of 
water  spilled  upon  his  head?  If  you  chanced  to  remem- 
ber that  one  morning  while  he  was  expounding  the  Gos- 
pel could  you  think  seriously  about  sufferings  of  the 
Children  of  Israel?  Then  there  was  that  oft-repeated 
story  of  the  incident  in  High  School  when  some  fool 
question  debate,  namely,  "  Resolved  that  Lincoln  was  a 
greater  man  than  Washington,"  was  on  in  the  weekly 
Literary  Society  Friday  afternoon.  Jimmie  had  heard 
the  pros  and  cons  and  mentally  thought  the  pupils  were 
talking  through  their  hats,  trying  to  take  lustre  from  one 
great  man  and  shine  up  the  other  with  it  when  each  had 
all  any  one  man  could  carry.  Then  came  the  moment  of 
general  debate  and  the  decisive  time  when  a  standing 
vote  was  taken.  "  All  those  in  favor  of  the  affirmative 
please  rise  "  and  some  of  the  scholars  scrambled  to  their 
feet.  "  All  those  in  favor  of  the  negative  please  rise  " 
and  the  remaining  pupils  rose,  all  except  Jimmie.  He 
sat  tight  during  both  uprisings.  The  president  of  the  day 
demanded,  "  Mr.  Snavely,  you  did  not  rise  for  either 
side.  We  want  to  know  what  you  decided." 

Jimmie's  answer  has  been  immortalized  in  Fairview — 
"  I  decided  to  set  still !  " 

Called  to  account  by  an  outraged  principal  he  an- 
swered wisely,  "  When  you  can  tell  me  whether  man  is 
superior  to  woman,  food  more  necessary  than  water,  the 
stars  more  beautiful  than  the  moon,  then  I'll  tell  you 
jvhether  Lincoln  was  a  greater  man  than  Washington." 

The  same  sane  reasoning  characterized  him  when  He 


IN  THE  CHERRY  TREE  177 

was  grown  to  manhood.  It  was  to  this  far-off,  seemingly 
inaccessible  star  that  Sarah  Burkhart,  the  child  of  Red 
Rose  Court  and  Sunset  Mountain,  hitched  her  little 
wagon.  Here  was  a  man  she  wanted  to  know  better, 
coveted  for  a  friend.  In  that  brief  interview,  uncon- 
ventional and  illuminating,  she  had  been  cognizant  of  a 
natural,  unavoidable  prejudice  toward  her — or  was  it 
mere  wariness?  To  him,  no  less  than  to  the  others  of 
the  town,  she  was  that  heretic,  rebel,  if  not  a  thing  to 
flout,  then  a  person  who  required  changing  and  improving 
before  meriting  close  intimacy.  She  remembered  Mrs. 
Maloney's  words  that  if  you  wanted  a  thing  hard  enough 
you'd  get  it  if  you  went  after  it!  Somehow  it  did  not 
seem  preposterous  or  presuming  to  covet  the  friendship 
of  a  man  like  the  Reverend  Snavely.  Perhaps  some  ap- 
preciation of  her  own  power  and  latent  possibilities  was 
uppermost  in  her  heart  that  April  day  as  she  worked  in 
the  kitchen  with  the  solemn  Aunt  Sybilla.  A  bit  of 
Tennyson  she  loved  came  to  her : 

"  I  have  heard  that,  somewhere  in  the  main, 
Fresh-water  springs  come  up  through  bitter  brine." 

Was  it  ever  possible  that  through  the  acrid  life  she  had 
known  the  sweet  waters  of  love  would  rise  to  sweeten  her 
whole  being  ? 

"  Here ! "  came  her  aunt's  stern  warning,  "  you  peel 
them  potatoes  too  thick!  That  ain't  no  way,  throwin' 
half  the  good  out  with  the  skin.  That's  how  lots  of  peo- 
ple do  and  then  they  never  get  nowheres." 

"  I'm  sorry." 

"  Well,  don't  do  it  no  more.  Bein*  sorry  when  it's 
spoiled  won't  fix  the  potatoes." 


178 

"  No — yes — I  mean  I'll  be  careful." 

The  woman  looked  at  her.  "  What  makes  you  talk  so 
ferhuddled?  Anyhow,  what  was  you  and  that  preacher 
doin',  talkin'  about  in  our  lot?  What  did  he  come  over 
here  for?" 

"  To  see  the  cherry  blossoms,  I  suppose,"  was  the  in- 
nocent reply. 

"  Ach,"  she  gave  a  disgusted  look  at  the  girl.  "  I 
guess  he  could  seen  them  from  his  side  of  the  fence.  I 
tell  you,  you  better  not  begin  makin'  a  fuss  with  him,  for 
his  members  would  hate  to  have  it.  He's  a  preacher  and 
got  to  be  careful  how  he  acts  for  there  are  so  many  al- 
ways watchin'  preachers.  Course,  he's  only  a  'Piscopal 
one  and  I  think  still  they  are  like  the  Catholics,  only  the 
name  is  different." 

"  Oh,  no !  "  protested  the  girl,  but  it  fell  on  deaf  ears. 

"  Mrs.  Roth,  she  goes  to  that  church  and  she  told  me 
a'ready  how  they  do,  bowing  and  gettin'  up  and  down  all 
the  time,  rutchin'  round  in  church  like  that !  It  wonders 
me  if  the  'Piscopal  preachers  can't  make  up  no  prayers 
or  why  they  always  read  them  out  a  little  book,  that 
ain't  the  Bible,  neither!  But  then  some  churches  got 
funny  ways.  I'm  glad  ourn  hasn't." 

Sarah  smiled,  thinking  how  extremely  queer  and  novel 
the  Mennonite  service  had  been  to  her.  It  was  all  a 
matter  of  perspective,  she  told  herself. 

"  Anyhow,"  went  on  the  woman,  "  I  don't  want  you  to 
begin  gettin'  notions  about  boys.  Mr.  Snavely  he's  a 
man,  lots  too  old  for  you,  so  that  don't  worry  me  only 
what  his  members  would  say  if  they  seen  you  and  him 
together  a  lot.  But  boys,  like  Dan  Roth,  you  better  leave 
them  alone.  It  ain't  no  good  to  start  anything  like  that 
for  half  the  time  it  brings  you  trouble." 


IN  THE  CHERRY  TREE  179 

"  You  think,"  Sarah  sang, 

' '  Men  are  deceivers  ever, 
One  foot  on  land  and  one  on  sea. 
To  one  thing  constant  never.'  " 

"  Well,  I  never  heard  it  sang  like  that  but  I  guess  it's 
not  far  from  true.  There  ain't  many  good  men  like  your 
grandpap  no  more." 

And  the  woman  sighed  and  looked  so  sad  that  Sarah 
felt  she  had  a  clue  to  that  twenty-year  trouble  that  had 
soured  her.  Some  love  story  with  an  unhappy  ending! 
That  was  it!  Poor  Sybilla!  She  hoped  when  her  love 
story  came  it  would  end,  "  They  lived  happy  ever  after." 


CHAPTER  XI 

WORK  AND  PLAY 

WHEN  Sarah  sat  down  to  her  supper  that  day  she  was 
still  thinking  about  her  new  acquaintance.  Then  the  im- 
portance of  sitting  around  the  table  with  her  own  family 
overshadowed  all  lesser  interests  and  she  gave  herself 
up  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  meal. 

Meal-time  in  the  Burkhart  home  had  been  a  revelation 
to  the  newcomer.  Six  years  in  a  reformatory  where  the 
food  was  cooked  in  great  quantities  and  distributed  in 
platefuls  had  not  taught  her  much  about  the  manner  of 
eating  in  a  private  home.  Sometimes  she  had  walked 
with  Miss  Hughes  along  the  little  street  at  the  foot  of 
Sunset  Mountain  at  supper  time  and  seen  through  the 
windows  of  the  lighted  room  a  family  or  two  seated 
round  a  small  table.  At  such  times  her  heart  had  ached 
poignantly.  Oh,  to  be  one  of  the  group !  But  each  time 
she  had  gone  back  to  the  big  dining-room  on  the  hill  and 
taken  her  place  at  the  long  table  with  twenty-odd  other 
girls. 

The  days  of  sojourn  in  her  new  home  had  brought  her 
many  experiences  that  warmed  her  heart  but  none  dearer 
than  the  half  hour  spent  each  meal-time.  True,  her  grand- 
father and  aunts  ate  in  the  kitchen  instead  of  using  the 
big  dining-room  whose  corner  cupboard  with  lovely  old- 
fashioned  dishes  proclaimed  it  the  proper  place  for  the 
family  meals,  but  the  table  in  the  kitchen  was  always 
laden  with  a  variety  of  dishes,  made  after  infallible, 
ancient  Pennsylvania  Dutch  recipes,  that  the  girl  liked 


WORK  AND  PLAY  '181 

to  hear  the  call  for  meals.  Then  she  flattered  herself 
that  her  presence  at  the  table  added  life  to  the  party. 
They  needed  it  badly  enough,  goodness  knows,  she  told 
herself.  The  meals  were  far  too  solemn  affairs !  Some- 
times grandfather  had  some  bit  of  news  he  had  gathered 
at  the  store,  Aunt  Mary  found  a  few  pleasant  things  to 
recount,  and  even  Aunt  Sybilla,  under  the  softening  in- 
fluence of  home-made  crullers  and  pie  thought  of  some- 
thing to  say,  but  there  was  no  sustained  conversation 
unless  Sarah  took  the  helm.  She  would  have  enjoyed 
discussing  topics  of  the  day  but  all  efforts  to  do  so  met 
with  frosty  answers  from  Aunt  Sybilla  who  immediately 
started  to  speak  about  the  necessity  of  buying  new  sheets. 
Did  Mary  know  that  the  towels  were  down  to  twenty  and 
that  mom  always  tried  to  keep  two  dozen  of  everything 
in  the  house  for  you  never  know  when  there  might  be 
sickness  or  something  and  you'd  hate  to  have  the  neigh- 
bors come  in  and  find  you  were  short  on  anything. 
Didn't  Mary  think  they  ought  to  get  at  making  some 
real  soon  ? 

After  a  few  days  Sarah  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the 
family  and  grew  to  like  the  homely  topics  spoken  about 
at  the  table.  Their  very  prosaicness  attracted  her  and 
she  felt  more  like  one  of  the  family  to  hear  them  than  if 
the  topic  had  been  a  summary  of  the  news  in  the  daily 
paper. 

That  April  evening  when  Aunt  Sybilla  turned  to  her 
and  asked,  "  What  do  you  think  of  the  new  coffee  ?  I 
got  it  for  only  twenty-eight  cents  at  that  new  cheap  store 
just  opened.  I  think  it's  as  good  as  the  thirty-cent  coffee 
we  got  so  long.  What's  the  use  throwin'  away  two  cents 
every  time  you  buy  a  pound  of  coffee  if  this  is  just  as 
good!'* 


182    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

Sarah  had  a  hard  time  to  keep  from  declaring  that  the 
coffee  tasted  like  nectar  and  ambrosia  to  her  after  they 
had  deigned  to  ask  her  opinion  of  it  but  she  merely  an- 
swered, "  It's  fine,  Aunt  Sybilla !  But  I  suppose  I'm  not 
much  of  a  judge;  any  coffee  would  taste  good  to  me  for 
I  never  got  it  on  the  mountain." 

"  What,  no  coffee !  "  The  woman  looked  aghast,  some- 
thing like  pity  showing  in  her  face  at  the  thought  of  what 
she  considered  the  girl's  deprivation.  "  Then  I  guess  you 
got  to  do  like  the  hired  man  mom  used  to  tell  about  still 
— when  he  worked  any  place  where  they  didn't  give  him 
coffee  at  noon  he  always  drank  an  extra  cup  at  supper 
to  make  up  for  it." 

Sarah  laughed.  She  was  beginning  to  feel  more  at 
home  with  these  strange  people  who  were  her  own. 
After  all,  they  were  good  to  her,  as  good  as  they  knew 
how  to  be.  But  her  grandfather,  how  stern  he  generally 
looked!  Would  she  ever  learn  to  feel  free  with  him! 
What  a  peculiar  old  man  he  was ! 

"  Sarah."  He  startled  her  so  she  almost  spilled  her 
coffee. 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  mean  what  is  it,  grandfather  ?  " 

"  Ach,  you  needn't  call  me  nothin'  tony  like  that.  Just 
grandpap  will  do." 

"  Yes,  grandpap." 

"  Are  you  good  at  figgers  ?  " 

"  Yes.  The  teacher  at — on  the  mountain  used  to  say 
that  mathematics  was  my  best  work." 

"  I  mean  just  plain  figgers,  like  the  figgerin'  in  the 
books  at  the  store." 

"  I  think  I  could  do  it." 

"  Then  I  wish  you'd  try  it  for  me.  Mebbe  you  can 
help  us  out  for  a  few  weeks.  Dan  Roth  across  the  street 


WORK  AND  PLAY  183 

Is  in  the  office  and  another  man,  but  he's  goin'  to  Cali- 
fornia for  a  few  weeks  and  I  need  some  one  to  help 
Dan.  We  got  a  few  clerks  in  the  store  but  they'd  mess 
everything  up  in  the  office  and  then  I  need  them  behind 
the  counters  anyway.  Would  you  like  to  try  it  once  ?  " 

"  Oh,  grandpap,  I'd  love  to !  Then  I'd  be  able  to  show 
you  how  grateful  I  am  for  keeping  me 

"  That's  enough  of  such  dumb  talk ! "  The  old  man 
frowned  forbiddingly.  "  You  belong  to  us ;  ain't  you 
Jeremiah's  girl !  I'll  pay  you  to  help  in  the  store." 

"  Oh,  no  pay !    When  you  are  keeping  me " 

"  Ain't  I  told  you  not  to  say  that !  I  guess  whoever 
works  for  me  get  some  pay  for  it,  relation  or  no  rela- 
tion." 

"  Be  sure,  yes,"  agreed  Aunt  Sybilla.  "  Pop  he 
wouldn't  have  no  one  work  for  him  for  nothin'.  That's 
only  right." 

Aunt  Mary  spoke  up  gently,  "  You  do  like  your  grand- 
pap  says.  It  will  be  nice  to  have  you  help  him  then 
people  can  see  you  ain't  lazy,  that  you  got  some  of  the 
good  in  the  family  along  with  the  rest — now,  what  a 
dumb  way  for  talkin',  ain't !  But  I  didn't  mean  nothin' 
by  it,  only  I  want  you  to  show  these  people  you  are  all 
right.  Mrs.  Roth  said  this  morning ' 

"  Mary,  Mrs.  Roth  don't  always  say  what  is  the  truth," 
her  sister  warned  her. 

"  Well,  anyhow  she  got  this  wrong.  She  said  .she 
guessed  we'd  be  sorry  yet  for  takin'  Sarah  in  our  home. 
I  told  her  no,  never !  " 

"  Oh,"  cried  Sarah,  "  I  hate  that  woman !  She's  so 
sweet  to  some  people  and  I  bet  she  stings  them  every 
time  she  gets  a  chance.  She's  too  sweet.  Even  the  Irish 
don't  laugh  all  the  time  and  smile.  Mrs.  Maloney  used 


184    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

to  say  too  much  sweet  was  worse  than  too  much  bitter  or 
sour,  that  it  made  you  sick  sooner." 

Grandfather  rapped  on  the  plate  with  his  knife. 
"  Here,  here,  let's  talk  business  instead  of  pullin'  the 
neighbors  to  pieces.  Will  you  come  to  the  store  to-mor- 
row morning  once,  then  you  can  find  out  what  is  to  do  ?  " 

"I'll  come.  Got  a  cage,  grandpap?"  she  asked  face- 
tiously. 

"  What  kind  of  cage  ?  "  he  asked,  not  understanding. 

"  For  the  specimen  on  exhibition.  If  I  work  in  that 
little  glass  office  in  the  store  it  will  be  a  fine  chance  for 
the  town  to  come  in  and  get  a  good  look  at  me  without 
appearing  to  be  curious." 

"  Ach,  I  guess  not.  Anyhow,  it's  my  store  and  I  dare 
put  in  it  who  I  want." 

Sarah  smiled.  She  was  thinking  of  what  Mrs.  Roth 
would  say  when  she  knew  that  her  boy  was  working  in 
the  office  with  the  despised  granddaughter  of  Jeremiah 
Burkhart. 

Dan  Roth  was  the  idol  of  his  mother's  heart,  and,  like 
many  other  idols,  spoiled,  petted  and  supported  until  his 
natural  stamina  was  stultified.  Like  his  mother  he  looked 
contemptuously  upon  the  daughter  of  a  convict,  but  the 
desire  of  youth  for  pleasure  kept  him  from  revealing  his 
contempt  too  plainly.  When  Sarah  came  to  the  office  to 
work  with  him  and  was  introduced  Dan  was  very  cordial. 
She  was,  in  his  eyes,  attractive;  her  manner  of  carrying 
her  head,  chin  up,  put  him  on  his  mettle.  By  heaven, 
he'd  like  to  make  her  drop  it  a  bit !  Dan  was  an  admirer 
of  the  fair  sex  and  the  fairer  they  were  the  better  he 
liked  them,  and  the  haughtier  they  acted  the  more  he 
prided  himself  when  he  won  their  interest.  Then  there 
was  a  tantalizing  winsomeness  about  the  new  girl  that 


WORK  AND  PLAY  185 

roused  his  desire  to  know  her  better.  Here  he  saw  an 
opportunity  to  amuse  himself,  pass  the  hours  in  the  store 
more  pleasantly,  without  having  any  unpleasant  scenes 
after  he  grew  tired  of  the  amusement.  True,  she  was 
the  relative  of  old  man  Jeremiah,  but  doubtless  an  un- 
welcome member  of  the  family,  and  so  long  as  only  an 
innocent  flirtation  took  place  no  one  would  call  him  to 
account  if  he  did  hurt  the  heart  of  the  girl  a  bit.  Here 
was  a  chance  to  dance  without  having  to  pay  the  fiddler 
later.  For  no  one  would  expect  a  boy  like  Dan  to  be 
seriously  interested  in  a  girl  who  had  been  in  a  reform- 
atory. So  Dan  Roth  was  at  once  pleasant  and  obliging 
and  so  friendly  that  Sarah  at  once  became  suspicious. 

The  first  noon  he  walked  home  from  the  store  with 
her  and  they  loitered  at  the  Burkhart  gate,  Sarah  hoping 
Mrs.  Roth  was  peeping  at  some  window  and  seeing  her 
son  and  heir  wasting  time  with  that  dreadful  Burkhart 
girl.  Dan  was  thinking  how  expressive  were  the  eyes  of 
the  girl  near  him  and  how  merry  her  laughter. 

After  she  had  eaten  she  spied  him  lingering  by  the 
gate  again  so  she  roguishly  slipped  down  through  the 
back  lot,  down  the  alley  and  reached  the  store  by  another 
route.  When  he  came  in,  barely  on  time,  she  was  bent 
over  her  books. 

"  You " — he  faced  her  angrily,  "  how  did  you  get 
here?" 

"  Walked,  of  course.    Did  you  think  I  hired  a  taxi  ?  " 

"  Come  off,  now,  don't  put  on  airs  with  me.  Let's  be 
friends,"  he  coaxed.  "  I  want  you  to  meet  some  of  the 
crowd  and  have  fun.  This  is  a  dead  dry  town  but  we 
manage  to  have  some  good  times  in  it.  Another  young 
person  and  a  charming  one  at  that,  will  be  a  valuable 
asset." 


186        THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURfi 

"  Asset,"  she  laughed.  "  Much  you  know  about 
banking  terms  if  you  call  me  that.  Go  on,  you're 
fooling.  I'm  part  Irish  and  I  can  tell  blarney  every 
time  and  can  outblarney  anybody,  so  don't  try  that  with 
me." 

"  I  mean  it.    I  do  want  to  be  friends." 

"  Well,  I'll  think  about  it." 

Dan  mentally  said,  "  Darn  her,  wonder  who  she  thinks 
she  is ! "  [But  aloud  he  repeated  his  desire  to  become 
friends.  He  gained  no  promise  from  her.  "  Go  on,  and 
let  me  do  my  work,"  she  told  him.  "  My  grandfather 
isn't  paying  either  of  us  to  be  galavanting." 

True  to  her  promise  Sarah  went  to  Sunday  school  the 
next  week.  She  was  placed  in  a  class  of  young  ladies 
about  her  own  age,  who  smiled  dutifully  then  ignored  her. 
It  was  a  new  experience  for  Sarah.  She  liked  the  music 
and  the  beginning  of  the  lesson  talk  by  a  woman  who 
was  educated  and  seemed  to  know  her  subject,  but  the 
new  girl  soon  fell  to  comparing  her  clothes  with  those  of 
the  other  girls  and  the  process  hurt.  Of  course  Miss 
Hughes  had  outfitted  her  wonderfully  well  for  a  reforma- 
tory girl,  a  city  charge,  but  those  silk  dresses  the  other 
girls  wore  made  her  envious.  She  saw  how  limited  was 
her  wardrobe  and  while  the  teacher  went  on  eloquently 
expounding  the  lesson  of  Daniel  and  the  lions  Sarah  sat 
with  rapt  attention  on  her  own  thoughts — how  far  her 
money  would  go  toward  the  purchase  of  pretty  clothes! 
Grandfather  promised  to  pay  her  for  the  work  at  the 
store  and  she'd  buy  first  a  new  hat;  hers  was  a  sight! 
Then  she  did  want  a  pair  of  white  kid  gloves,  had  always 
wanted  them  since  her  first  sight  of  them  on  the  hands  of 
others.  If  she  ever  earned  enough  money  she'd  have  a 
silk  dress  and  satisfy  the  long  craving  of  her  soul.  After 


WORK  AND  PLAY  187 

her  work  at  the  store  was  finished  she'd  try  to  find  some- 
thing else  to  do  in  Fairview  and  earn  money  for  clothes 
like  the  other  girls  wore.  Of  course  she  couldn't  expect 
her  people  to  dress  her  like  that ! 

The  teacher's  pleased,  "  You  are  a  very  attentive 
scholar,  Miss  Burkhart,"  made  the  girl  say  to  herself^ 
"  Sarah,  you're  a  darned  hypocrite !  " 

She  smiled  her  sweetest  at  the  thought  and  several  of 
the  girls  grudgingly  admitted  to  themselves  that  she  was 
real  attractive  when  she  smiled;  if  only  she  were  the  right 
sort  she  might  be  lots  of  fun  to  know.  One  girl,  less 
subservient  to  opinion  or  dictates  of  her  elders,  Mary 
Becker,  was  openly  friendly  to  the  new  member  of  the 
class.  She  could  afford  to  be.  Her  father  was  president 
of  the  bank,  her  mother  head  of  the  town  aristocracy, 
her  brother  one  of  the  town  physicians  and  Mary  her- 
self a  student  at  Vassar  and  accustomed  to  take  the  law 
into  her  own  hands  on  many  occasions.  Oh,  Mary  might 
defy  parental  instructions  and  still  lose  no  prestige;  her 
family  was  too  firmly  established  at  the  top.  But  the 
other  girls  of  the  class  were  not  so  cordial.  True,  some 
of  them  shook  hands  with  Sarah  and  said  they  hoped 
she  could  come  every  Sunday,  but  she  saw  they  did  not 
really  want  to  say  it,  knowing  how  wicked  it  was  to  lie. 
She  felt  herself  accepted  on  sufferance.  One  by  one  they 
drifted  away  after  the  session,  started  off  down  the  street 
in  happy  groups  and  Sarah  walked  alone  to  her  home. 
A  grim  determination  rose  in  her.  She  would  make  them 
like  her.  She  could  give  as  clever  answers  to  the  ques- 
tions as  those  girls — why  some  of  them  knew  lots  less 
than  she !  She  would  prove  to  them  that  even  if  she  was 
reared  in  an  atmosphere  totally  diverse  from  that  in 
which  they  had  basked  during  childhood  she  was  just  as 


188        THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB; 

human,  lovable,  tender  as  they,  and  not  one  whit  less 
worthy  the  friendship  of  noble  persons. 

"  I'll  make  them  love  me  yet !  "  she  determined.  "  I'll 
go  to  that  Sunday  school  every  week  and  enter  into 
their  affairs  until  I  can't  be  ignored." 

For  several  weeks  there  was  no  appreciable  increase  in 
warmth  in  the  manners  of  the  other  girls  of  the  class  to 
the  newcomer.  Neither  did  any  young  people  of  the 
town  call  or  pay  any  attention  to  the  girl  at  Jeremiah 
Burkhart's  house.  Only  Dan  Roth  showed  any  desire  to 
be  friendly  and  she  kept  him  at  arm's  length,  so  that  he 
said  frequently,  "  Darn  her,  wonder  who  she  thinks  she 
is ! "  She  refused  his  invitations  to  go  for  ice-cream  at 
the  drug  store  or  to  walk  about  the  town  on  a  fine  April 
evening.  "  I'm  keeping  Lent,"  she  told  him,  "  and  de- 
prive myself  of  all  such  pleasures."  But  he  knew  she 
was  making  sport  of  him. 

Easter  came  late  that  year.  Jeremiah  Burkhart  paid 
his  help  every  week  so  just  before  Easter  he  handed 
Sarah  ten  dollars.  "  Your  pay  up  to  Easter,  thought  you 
might  like  it  to  spend  some.  I'll  pay  you  more  if  you 
stay  and  earn  more." 

"  Grandpap,  the  first  money  I  ever  earned !  It's  really 
mine  ?  " 

"  You  earned  it,"  he  said  matter-of-factly. 

"  I  may  spend  it  ?  " 

"  Folks  generally  dare  spend  their  own  money."  But 
his  eyes  smiled  as  he  looked  into  the  eager  face  of  the 
girl.  Perhaps  some  memory  of  the  days  when  his  wife 
had  been  young  like  that  stirred  in  him.  "  You  just  do 
what  you  want  with  it,"  he  told  her  kindly. 

Sarah  wished  he  would  pat  her  head  or  kiss  her  or  do 
something  to  show  he  liked  her.  But  he  was  parsimoni- 


WORK  AND  PLAY  189 

busiy  chary  with  demonstrations  of  affection  and  Sarah 
had  to  be  satisfied  with  the  smile. 

"  Look,  Aunt  Mary,  Aunt  Sybilla,"  she  cried  as  she 
ran  to  the  kitchen,  "  this  is  what  grandpap  gave  me  and 
he  says  I  may  spend  it  if  I  want." 

"  Now,"  spoke  up  Sybilla  the  practical,  "  if  I  was  you 
I'd  put  it  to  bank  till  you  got  more  then  take  out  a 
certificate  and  draw  interest  every  year  and  that  way  you 
can  get  a  nice  nest-egg  together." 

"  No,"  protested  the  girl.  "  I  am  going  to  spend  it.  I 
want  a  new  hat  and  I've  longed  for  white  kid  gloves  till 
it  hurt." 

"  White  kid  gloves,  like  a  pall-bearer,  eh  ?  You  needn't 
spend  no  ten  dollars  for  a  hat  and  them  silly  gloves ! " 
Such  extravagance  was  almost  criminal,  thought  Sybilla. 
If  the  girl  was  going  to  be  improvident  it  would  take  a 
lot  of  money  to  keep  her. 

Aunt  Mary  intervened.  "  Sybilla,  let  the  girl  do  what 
she  wants  with  the  money.  She  worked  for  it.  She 
ain't  young  more  than  once  and  if  she  wants  a  new  hat 
and  gloves " 

"  Well,  I'll  ask  pop  to-night  if  she  dare  spend  money 
so,  go  on  like  she  had  a  barrel  of  it." 

But  Sarah  was  determined  and  decided  to  avoid  further 
controversy  by  spending  the  ten  dollars  at  once.  She 
went  straight  to  the  little  millinery  shop  up  town,  tried 
on  ten  hats  and  bought  the  first  one  she  had  tried  on,  then 
she  marched  to  another  store  and  bought  her  first  pair 
of  white  gloves.  Her  blue  serge  suit  was  good;  if  she 
brushed  it  and  laundered  the  white  voile  waist  she  would 
have  an  Easter  outfit  far  grander  than  any  she  had  had 
hitherto. 

Her  dream  of  an  Easter  basket  in  a  real  home,  dyeing 


eggs  and  hiding  them,  seemed  doomed  to  non-fulfilment. 
Saturday  noon  came  and  no  sign  of  eggs  had  she  seen. 

"  You  know,"  she  told  the  aunts  as  they  cleared  away 
the  dinner  dishes,  "  I  have  no  work  at  the  store  this 
afternoon  and  I'd  dye  a  few  eggs  if  I  knew  how." 

"  Dye  eggs  on  a  Saturday  when  the  kitchen  is 
cleaned !  "  Aunt  Sybilla  disapproved.  "  That's  a  dumb 
notion,  to  smear  round  with  dye  and  then  afterward  you 
can't  hardly  eat  the  eggs  for  the  dye  gets  in  and  colors 
the  white.  Mebbe  you'd  be  poisoned  yet." 

"  Mebbe  we  could  fix  some  like  mom  used  to  do  for 
us,  Sarah,"  Aunt  Mary  suggested.  "  With  onion  skins 
and  calico." 

"  Well,  I  got  to  go  up  town  and  if  you  want  to  make 
such  a  mess  be  sure  to  clean  up  after."  And  Sybilla  left 
the  two  foolish  persons  alone  in  the  kitchen. 

"  Are  we  really  going  to  dye  eggs  ?  "  asked  Sarah. 

"  Be  sure  yes,  if  you  want  to.  I  ain't  done  it  in  years. 
Run  up  to  the  back  room  and  get  the  patch  bag  and  I'll 
get  things  ready.  Oh,  and  fetch  some  big  onions  from 
the  garret,  some  with  nice  brown  skins." 

Sarah  flew  up  the  stairs,  a  blessed  feeling  of  belonging 
to  Aunt  Mary  racing  with  her.  She  gathered  up  some 
onions  in  her  skirt,  lugged  the  heavy  patch  bag  down  the 
stairs,  panting,  "  Oh,  this  is  more  fun  than  a  circus." 

She  watched  and  helped  the  aunt  as  the  onion  skins 
were  put  on  to  boil  and  the  eggs  dipped  in  the  colored 
liquid.  "  Oh,  aren't  they  pretty !  "  She  was  pleased  as 
a  little  child. 

"  You  just  wait  once  till  you  see  them  dyed  in  the 
calico ! " 

Sarah  watched  the  woman  as  she  selected  scraps  of 
bright  goods,  crimson  with  yellow  sprigs,  yellow  with 


WORK  AND  PLAY  191 

maroon  figures,  vivid  greens,  gay  blues,  and  then  in  every 
scrap  was  tied  an  egg  and  the  whole  placed  into  boiling 
water  and  left  to  bubble  away  on  the  stove.  When  the 
eggs  were  removed  from  the  calico  the  pattern  and  color 
of  the  goods  was  left  upon  them. 

Sarah  squealed  with  delight.  "  Who  ever  would  think 
of  that ! " 

The  eggs  were  all  rubbed  with  lard  to  make  them 
glossy  and  then  laid  in  a  dish,  ready  for  the  morrow. 

When  Sybilla  came  home  she  found  the  kitchen  in 
order  and  the  finished  eggs  on  the  table.  "  Um,  got  done 
soon.  But  it  wonders  me  that  a  big  girl  like  you  wants 
to  do  such  baby  things.  Why,  you  are  too  big  for  such 
foolishness." 

The  girl's  eyes  filled.  "  I  never  had  them  when  I  was 
the  proper  age  for  them.  I  wanted  to  know  just  once 
how  it  felt  to  color  Easter  eggs  and  hunt  for  an  Easter 
basket  in  the  morning.  I  guess  I  am  too  old.  I  won't 
want  to  do  it  next  year,  but  this  once  was  fun." 

Aunt  Mary  wiped  her  eyes  on  her  apron  and  mentally 
vowed  that  the  girl  should  have  her  Easter  nest  in  the 
morning.  So  when  Sarah  awoke  on  the  first  Easter  in 
her  own  home  and  went  down-stairs  she  was  greeted 
with,  "  Now  hunt  your  nest." 

"  Oh,  really  ?    Did  you  fix  one  for  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  you  got  to  find  it." 

Sarah  began  the  search,  having  much  fun  and  laugh- 
ing often  as  the  most  likely  places  proved  false  alarms. 
At  last  she  found  it  under  the  kitchen  table  in  an  old- 
fashioned  brown  basket  Aunt  Mary  had  brought  from 
the  attic.  Scraps  of  bright  tissue  paper  lined  it  and  upon 
them  were  the  lovely  calico  and  onion  eggs  and  a  few 
chocolate  ones  Aunt  Mary  had  bought. 


192    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

Sarah  ran  to  her  and  throwing  an  arm  about  her  neck, 
kissed  her  warmly  on  the  cheek.  Then  she  looked 
abashed  at  her  own  boldness  but  the  woman  laughed. 
"  You  dare  do  that  whenever  you  want,  Sarah.  I  like 
you  and  I  wish  I  could  give  you  everything  you  didn't 
get  when  you  was  little." 

"  Oh,  you  dear ! "  cried  the  girl,  but  further  expres- 
sions of  understanding  were  cut  off  by  the  appearance  of 
Jeremiah  Burkhart. 

"What's  all  the  racket  about?"  he  asked  rather 
sternly.  "  I  heard  Sarah  laugh  before  I  got  up  a'ready." 

"  Oh,  grandpap,"  she  held  out  her  basket,  "  see  what 
Aunt  Mary  fixed  for  me !  " 

"  Well,  that  ain't  nothin'  to  make  so  much  fuss  about. 
It's  Sunday,"  he  added  in  a  tone  of  reproof. 

"  Yes,"  the  girl  said,  "  Sunday  and  Easter  and  if  ever 
there  was  a  day  to  be  glad  on  it's  this  one !  " 

Such  rank  opposition  and  defiance  left  the  man  speech- 
less. He  wondered  again,  what  manner  of  girl  was  this  ? 
Would  she  ever  grow  into  the  mould  he  thought  she 
would  have  to  fit? 

The  rebuff  of  the  man  left  Sarah  subdued.  After  all, 
he  was  right,  Easter  baskets  were  for  children.  No 
amount  of  them  could  make  up  to  her  the  lack  of  them 
when  they  were  due  her. 

That  Easter  was  an  ideal  day,  greatly  to  the  delight  of 
the  young  girls  who  had  beautiful  silk  dresses  to  initiate. 

Sarah  donned  her  blue  suit,  the  white  waist,  freshly 
ironed,  pulled  the  new  hat  at  the  right  angle  on  her  black 
hair,  pinned  to  her  coat  a  bunch  of  fragrant  white  violets 
Aunt  Mary  had  allowed  her  to  pick  from  the  grassy  place 
in  the  yard  where  they  were  abundant,  then  she  was 
ready  for  church. 


WORK  AND  PLAY  193 

Easter  in  the  Episcopal  Church  brings  a  beautiful,  in- 
spiring service.  The  scent  of  lilies  was  heavy  in  the  little 
church  of  St.  Paul.  The  soft  bustle  of  arriving  attend- 
ants, the  whispers,  and  then  the  processional,  the  music 
and  the  measured  march  of  the  choir  boys.  She  thought 
she  had  never  heard  anything  more  beautiful  than  the 
tenor  solo,  "  Open  the  Gates  of  the  Temple."  At  the 
words,  "  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth,  and  because 
He  lives  I  too  shall  live,"  her  heart  throbbed  in  answering 
faith.  Oh,  it  was  wonderful  to  be  in  that  church  on  that 
day !  She  looked  at  the  colored  windows,  turned  to  lis- 
ten to  the  words  of  the  Reverend  Snavely  as  he  told  the 
Easter  story,  and  suddenly,  as  the  passage  of  a  bird,  there 
stole  into  her  heart  a  feeling  of  unhappiness — her  father 
— in  what  dark  corner  was  he  languishing  that  bright 
day?  What  songs  of  hope  was  he  hearing?  Oh,  to  have 
him  with  her  in  that  church!  She  resolved  to  speak  to 
her  grandfather  about  him,  though  he  had  forbidden  her 
to  mention  the  name  of  the  one  who  was  paying  the 
penalty  of  his  misdeeds. 

After  the  service  the  rector  shook  hands  with  her,  sev- 
eral others  spoke  to  her,  but  she  had  no  mind  then  for  the 
likes  or  dislikes  of  the  Fairview  people.  Her  whole 
thought  was  of  her  father  and  what  she  was  going  to  say 
about  him  to  her  grandfather. 

Her  grandfather  had  already  returned  from  the  service 
in  the  Mennonite  Church  and  sat  on  the  back  porch  while 
the  aunts  prepared  the  dinner. 

It  was  almost  May.  A  few  lingering  cherry  blossoms 
still  made  white  splashes  on  the  trees,  apple  buds  showed 
pink  on  the  big  tree  in  the  yard,  where  a  provident  robin 
was  already  building  his  nest  on  a  broad  crotch.  Grand- 
father seemed  to  be  watching  the  bird  who,  knowing 


194    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

no  Sabbath,  was  carrying  threads  and  grass  to  the 
tree. 

"  Grandpap !  "    The  girl  sat  beside  him. 

"  Well,  I  see  you  got  your  finery  on.  Worked  almost 
two  weeks  for  it  and  spent  it  all  in  ten  minutes,  eh  ?  "  he 
said,  not  unkindly. 

"  Yes — but,  grandpap,  I  want  to  talk  to  you.  You  told 
me  never  to  bring  it  up  again  when  you  are  here  but  I 
must !  It's  about  father " 

"  I  told  you " 

"  I  must,  grandpap."  Her  distress  was  so  evident  that 
he  suffered  her  to  go  on.  "  Won't  you  forgive  him  ? 
Won't  you  tell  him  you  do?  Think  of  him  in  that  awful 
place  and  we  here  in  this  yard." 

"  Sarah,  the  Book  says  that  what  a  man  sows  he  must 
reap."  » 

"  I  know.  But  it  says  more.  I  heard  it  this  morning. 
You  know  the  Lord's  Prayer.  It  says,  '  Forgive  us  our 
trespasses  as  we  forgive  them  that  trespass  against  us.' 
If  God  took  us  at  our  word  when  we  say  that  we'd  have 
a  pretty  hard  time,  all  of  us,  wouldn't  we,  grandpap  ?  " 

"  Eh  ?  What  do  you  mean  ?  You  mean  I  ain't  done 
right  by  the  boy?  I  trained  him  right  and  tried  to  make 
a  good  man  out  him  but  he  went  his  way  and  what  he  got 
is  what  he  earned." 

"  But,  grandpap,  don't  you  ever  stop  to  think  that  even 
if  he  does  deserve  all  he  is  getting  how  dreadful  it  must 
be  for  him  ?  How  he  must  feel  sorry  about  it  and  wish  he 
had  done  as  you  tried  to  teach  him,  stick  to  the  honest 
way.  They  said  the  Apostles'  Creed  in  church  to-day — 
guess  you  know  it  too.  When  they  came  to  that  part,  '  I 
believe  in  the  forgiveness  of  sins,'  I  wondered  how  many 
really  acted  as  if  they  do  believe  that.  Oh,  they  believe 


WORK  AND  PLAY  195 

in  the  forgiveness  of  their  sins,  but  what  about  the  sins  of 
others  ?  Father  will  be  out  of  that  place  in  a  few  years 
and  then  I  want  him  to  be  with  me  and  I  want  to  be  with 
you,  and  how  are  we  going  to  fix  it  if  you  won't  make  up 
with  him  ?  " 

"  We'll  cross  our  bridges  when  we  come  to  them,"  said 
the  old  man,  but  there  were  smouldering  fires  in  his  eyes 
the  girl  had  never  seen  there  before.  She  hoped  she  had 
touched  some  chord  of  responsiveness  in  his  heart.  But 
he  sat,  chin  resting  on  his  cane,  his  eyes  hidden  from  the 
girl.  Aunt  Sybilla  came  then  to  call  her  to  change  her 
dress  and  help  dish  the  dinner  and  the  matter  of  her  fa- 
ther was  dropped.  Her  heart  was  heavy.  After  all,  she 
found,  what  availed  a  new  hat  and  coveted  white  gloves 
if  the  heart  was  heavy  ?  She  had  learned  the  first  step  in 
the  appreciation  of  the  littleness  of  things.  Things — 
what  joy  would  diamonds,  silk  dresses,  all  purchasable 
things  bring  her  when  her  spirit  was  troubled !  It  was  an 
hour  of  deep  discernment  and  education,  but  an  unhappy 
one. 

During  the  days  that  followed  Jeremiah  Burkhart  did 
not  refer  to  the  forbidden  subject  of  the  criminal.  His 
face  was  set  and  stern,  as  though  he  were  wearing  a  mask 
to  hide  his  real  feeling.  So  far  as  he  was  concerned  it 
was  once  more  a  closed  matter,  requiring  no  further  ac- 
tion or  discussion.  The  girl  wondered  if  his  heart  was 
still  as  hard  to  his  son,  whether  he  could  much  longer  ig- 
nore the  very  existence  of  him.  But  she  forbore  to  ques- 
tion him.  Every  day  she  went  to  the  office  and  in  her 
work  there  she  greatly  pleased  her  grandfather,  who 
frankly  told  her  as  he  would  have  been  equally  frank  to 
find  fault  if  that  had  been  necessary. 

So  the  days  passed  in  the  new  home.    After  store 


.196        THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

hours  Sarah  helped  her  aunts  in  the  house,  sometimes  in 
the  garden.  Her  love  of  optimistic  poetry  helped  her 
through  some  days  that  had  else  been  dreary.  Her  Irish 
strain  showed  her  the  funny,  glad  side  to  everything,  so 
that  to  all  appearances  she  was  happy.  At  least,  she  told 
herself,  she  was  learning  lots  of  things.  And  she  was, 
adding  new  circles  of  growth  like  the  exogenous  rings  of 
a  tree. 

Quite  by  accident  she  stumbled  upon  the  mystery  of 
Aunt  Sybilla's  twenty-year  trouble.  One  evening  at  sup- 
per she  said,  "  Oh,  I  met  the  nicest  man  in  the  store  to- 
day. He  came  to  me  and  asked,  'Are  you  Jeremiah's 
granddaughter  ? '  and  when  I  told  him  I  had  that  honor 
he  looked  me  over,  put  out  his  hand,  and  said  he'd  like  to 
shake  hands  with  me,  that  he  knew  my  father  and  liked 
him  and  felt  so  sorry  things  had  happened  the  way  they 
did.  I  couldn't  feel  hurt  because  he  was  so  fatherly  about 
it.  He's  the  nicest  man  I  met  in  a  long  while." 

"  Yes  ?    Who  was  he  ?  "  asked  Aunt  Mary. 

"  He  said  his  name  is  Jake  Herr " 

At  the  words  her  grandfather  looked  up,  Mary  uttered 
a  soft,  "  Sh !  "  and  the  girl  glanced  at  Aunt  Sybilla — her 
face  was  pale.  There  was  the  secret  of  the  long-standing 
trouble,  Sarah  knew.  So  it  was  that  nice  man  had 
broken  the  heart  of  Aunt  Sybilla — she  could  scarcely 
credit  it. 

Sarah  tactfully  changed  the  subject  of  conversation  but 
the  thing  lingered  in  her  mind.  She  was  relieved  that 
evening  when  Aunt  Mary  came  into  her  room  and  offered 
explanations. 

"  I  guess  you  thought  we  acted  funny  at  the  table  when 
you  said  that  about  Jake  Herr,  but  I'll  tell  you  about  it. 
You  guess  there's  something  and  it's  better  to  know  than 


WORK  AND  PLAY  197 

to  guess.  Sybilla  and  Jake  was  goin'  to  marry  once  when 
she  was  a  girl.  He  was  a  nice  boy,  worked  on  his  pop's 
farm  and  we  thought  he  would  make  her  a  good  man. 
He  saved  his  money  and  bought  a  little  place  out  from  the 
town  for  him  and  Sybilla  to  go  to  farmin'.  Well,  one 
thing  Sybilla  was  set  against  was  drinkin'.  She  used  to 
say  when  she  was  just  little  that  she'd  never  marry  a  man 
who  drank.  A  month  before  they  was  to  be  married 
Jake  got  drunk  and  somebody  came  and  told  her.  She 
asked  him  and  he  said  it  was  so,  but  that  he  wouldn't  do 
it  again.  But  that  settled  it  for  Sybilla.  She  felt  she 
could  never  trust  him  after  that  and  they  didn't  get  mar- 
ried. Sybilla  never  forgave  him,  said  he  ruined  her  life, 
made  her  so  she'd  never  believe  any  man  except  pop. 
Everybody  said  Jake  would  go  to  the  bad  then  for  sure 
but  he  didn't.  He  got  his  sister  to  come  keep  house  for 
him,  he  run  the  farm  and  hasn't  been  drunk  since  that 
anybody  knows.  He  first  used  to  try  to  get  her  to  for- 
give him  and  make  up  so  they  would  marry,  but  she  acted 
so  funny  to  him  that  he  give  up  trying  that.  Now  they 
don't  look  at  each  other  when  they  get  to  the  same  Meet- 
ing House,  and  if  anybody  says  his  name  it  hurts  her. 
She  won't  ever  get  over  it,  I  guess,  but  sometimes  I  have 
to  pity  Jake,  for  I  think  he  would  made  her  a  good  hus- 
band. Sybilla  and  pop  are  alike  in  that,  they  find  it  so 
hard  to  forgive  when  somebody  does  something  to  them. 
Poor  Jake  is  still  workin'  his  farm  and  keepin*  sober,  and 
I  wonder  sometimes  if  he  still  thinks  she  might  look  at 
him  again  some  day.  'But  I  guess  she's  been  carry  in'  her 
trouble  too  long  to  do  that.  It's  too  bad,  now,  when 
people  make  such  a  mixup  of  their  life,  ain't?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  Aunt  Sybilla  is  foolish.     If  the  man  has 
proved  he  is  over  that  and  still  likes  her — oh,  I  think  she 


198    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

is  mighty  foolish!  But  I  suppose  she  has  carried  her 
trouble  so  long  that  she  wouldn't  be  happy  without  it." 

"Ach  what?  That's  a  funny  way  to  put  it,  but  now, 
mebbe  for  all,  it  might  be  true.  Only  never  say  nothin' 
about  Jake  when  she  is  here  or  tell  her  I  told  you,  for  she 
would  be  put  out." 

The  discovered  romance  of  the  grim  old  aunt  veiled 
her  in  a  new  interest  to  Sarah.  So  that  was  what  she 
had  read  about — disappointed  in  love!  How  dreadful! 
Did  it  leave  its  marks  on  everybody  as  it  had  on  Aunt 
Sybilla?  She  would  try  to  be  more  companionable  with 
the  aunt  since  she  knew  the  sorrow  of  her  heart. 

"Aunt  Sybilla,"  she  asked  her  one  day,  "  where  did  you 
get  your  name  ?  Were  you  named  for  anybody  ?  I  never 
heard  it  before." 

"  No  ?  Well,  I  guess  there's  more  things  you  never 
heard  of.  But  me,  I  was  named  out  the  Almanac." 

"  The  Almanac !  "     Here  was  something  new. 

"  Ach,  yes,  didn't  you  never  hear  about  that?  Lots  of 
us  Pennsylvania  Dutch  get  named  that  way.  When 
there's  a  new  baby  they  look  up  that  date  in  the  Almanac 
and  if  the  name  that's  long  side  the  date  is  one  that  suits 
they  give  it  to  the  baby.  I  know  lots  of  people  named 
like  that.  There's  Cletus  Longenecker,  Sabina  Miller, 
Donatus  Hilton,  and  me.  I  was  born  on  April  29. 
Wait  once."  She  brought  the  Almanac  as  evidence. 
"  See,  here  it  is,  April  29,  Sybilla." 

Sarah  looked  over  the  pages  of  the  Agricultural  Al- 
manac, the  infallible  friend  of  the  Pennsylvania  Dutch, 
many  of  whom  still  cling  to  the  ways  of  their  parents  and 
plant  their  gardens,  pickle  their  beets,  make  their  sauer- 
kraut, slip  their  geraniums,  by  the  signs  of  the  Almanac 
depicted  in  drawing  and  explained  in  words. 


WORK  AND  PLAY  199 

"  Oh,  what  queer  names !  "  exclaimed  the  girl.  "Aunt 
Sybilla,  just  suppose  you  had  been  born  January  4,  then 
you'd  be  named  Methusalem!  Or  on  February  10  and 
you'd  gotten  Scholastica,  or  April  15  would  have  brought 
you  Olympia." 

"Ach,  that's  too  dumb  to  talk  of.  I  guess  then  they'd 
called  me  Lizzie  or  Katie  or  some  such  nice  name.  I 
don't  like  fancy  names.  I  think  sometimes  mine  is  a 
little  too  fancy.  I  like  plain  ones  like  the  dresses  I 
wear." 

"  Yes — you  like  to  wear  those  plain  clothes  ?  "  Sarah 
felt  bold  in  asking  but  she  had  often  wondered  whether 
the  women  who  were  garbed  in  the  severely  plain  dresses 
really  enjoyed  life  in  them.  They  appeared  to. 

"  Me  ?  Well,  I  guess  I  do !  I  wouldn't  wear  none  of 
them  fussy  dresses  for  nothin'!  Me  and  Mary  both 
started  plain  when  we  was  young,  before  the  vanities  of 
the  world  got  a  good  hold  on  us.  It  saves  wonderful 
much,  too;  for  we  can  wear  the  same  style  one  year  after 
another.  Mom  was  plain  too." 

"  I  see."  Sarah  felt  a  reverence  as  she  thought  of  the 
sweet  woman  her  father  had  called  "  The  sweetest 
woman,  the  dearest  mother  in  the  world."  Of  course 
there  must  be  some  peace  afforded  to  the  wearers  of  the 
plain  garb,  some  secret  calm  and  satisfaction  that  fol- 
lowers after  the  styles  of  the  world  could  not  know. 

She  changed  the  subject.  "Aunt  Sybilla,  don't  you 
ever  think  the  Pennsylvania  Dutch  say  funny  things  ?  " 

"  No,  be  sure  not.  What's  funny  about  the  way  we 
talk  ?  Guess  it  ain't  different  from  the  way  you  do." 

"  Sometimes  it  is.  I  went  to  the  store  the  other  day 
and  the  old  woman  said,  '  I  guess  Fairview  gives  a  city 
soon  with  so  many  new  houses  goin'  up.'  " 


"Well,  what's  funny  about  that?  Guess  it  will  soon 
give  a  city." 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  said  Sarah,  hiding  a  smile.  "  I  guess 
it  must  be  myself  that's  funny.  I  can  laugh  at  nothing, 
you  know.  A  woman  came  in  the  store  then  and  told 
about  the  trip  she  and  her  husband  took  last  winter  and 
it  was  so  cold  in  the  train  that  he  '  walked  the  car  up  and 
down  to  keep  warm.'  " 

"  You  think  that's  funny?  "  Aunt  Sybilla  failed  to  see 
the  humor  of  it. 

"  No,  but  I  bet  he  kept  warm  all  right."  Sarah's  face 
dimpled. 

"Ach,  I  guess  that  was  old  Bevy  Warner ;  she  and  her 
man  goes  away  in  all  kinds  of  weather  still.  She's  dumb, 
so  dumb  as  Brenner's  bull." 

"  How  dumb  was  he  ?  " 

"  So  dumb  he  waded  through  the  crick  to  get  a  drink 
of  water ! " 

A  gay  peal  of  laughter  rang  out  and  Aunt  Sybilla  irre- 
sistibly joined  in  it.  "  You  stop  now,"  she  ordered, 
"  next  with  your  dumb  laughin'  all  the  time  you  make  me 
get  like  you,  laughin'  at  nothin'." 

"  Oh,  if  I  could !  "     Sarah  clapped  her  hands. 

"Well,  I  guess  not!  I  don't  want  to  get  that  way. 
You  behave  yourself  now." 

Verily  the  girl  was  a  changeling,  but  her  infectious 
laugh  soon  came  to  be  an  accepted  thing  in  the  old  house 
and  if  it  had  become  silent  the  three  older  people  would 
have  wondered  at  the  quiet.  Sarah  was  becoming  accli- 
mated to  Fairview.  What  though  the  young  people,  with 
the  exception  of  Mary  Becker,  seldom  looked  her  way 
when  she  was  looking  theirs,  the  children  of  the  street 
answered  her  smiles  and  ran  beside  her  as  she  went  to 


WORK  AND  PLAY  201 

and  fro.  She  could  bide  her  time  and,  like  the  patient 
man  in  Riley's  poem,  all  things  would  come  to  her  some 
day. 

The  friendship  with  the  rector  next  door  progressed 
slowly.  Several  times  in  as  many  weeks  they  exchanged 
commonplace  remarks  over  the  back  fence.  "  That 
friendship  he  talked  about  moves  about  as  fast  as  a 
glacier,"  she  thought,  "  but  small  favors  are  gratefully 
received  by  the  needy  so  I  should  be  satisfied.  I  don't 
wonder  he  balks  at  intimacy  with  the  daughter  of  a  con- 
vict and  all  the  rest  of  my  pedigree.  I  can't  expect  him 
to  swallow  all  that  at  one  gulp  and  look  pleasant  during 
the  ordeal.  But  life  is  moving.  I  have  a  home  and  fam- 
ily and  I  could  be  as  happy  as  an  ant  in  a  sugar  barrel  if 
it  were  not  for  poor  father.  Guess  I'll  write  to  him  for 
that  seems  to  be  all  I  can  do  for  him  at  present." 


CHAPTER  XII 

LETTERS 

DEAR  FATHER: 

You  see  by  the  heading  that  I'm  in  Fairview! 
Wish  I  could  tell  you  just  what  that  means  to  me  after 
all  those  years  of  wondering  who  and  where  my  people 
are.  Of  course  they  were  surprised  to  see  me,  for  they 
did  not  know  I  was  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  Aunt  Mary 
is  the  dearest  body !  I  look  at  her  and  like  to  remember 
you  told  me  your  mother,  my  grandmother,  was  like  that. 
But  grandfather  scares  me  a  little;  he's  so  sober  and 
quiet.  I  never  met  any  one  like  him.  No  longer  can  I 
boast,  "  I  ain't  afraid  of  nobody  nor  nothing  but  snakes," 
for  I  am  sometimes  afraid  of  Jeremiah  Burkhart ! 

The  first  day  I  was  there  a  neighbor  came  in  to  see 
who  the  company  might  be.  It  was — can  you  guess  who  ? 
« — Mrs.  Roth!  She  said  she  went  to  school  with  you. 
I'd  like  to  bet  she  tattled  even  then.  She's  a  gossip,  the 
kind  tells  you  a  lurid  tale  about  somebody  and  follows  it 
up  with,  "  But  don't  repeat  it."  No,  of  course  you  are 
not  to  repeat  it,  let  her  do  it !  She  has  the  loveliest  time 
going  from  house  to  house  gathering  and  dispensing  news 
for,  as  Miss  Hughes  says,  "A  dog  that'll  fetch  a  bone  will 
carry  one  away."  I  dare  say  nobody  escapes  the  tongue 
of  Mary  Ann  Roth.  There's  a  son,  too,  who  works  in 
grandfather's  store.  The  only  thing  his  head  is  fit  for 
is  to  use  for  a  hat-rack.  He  thought  he  could  have  some 
fun  with  me  and  make  a  fool  out  of  Sarah  'Burkhart. 
I'm  like  Mrs.  Maloney;  she  used  to  say  that  as  long  as 


LETTERS  200 

the  Lord  didn't  make  a  fool  out  of  her  she'd  be  hanged  if 
she'd  let  any  one  else  do  it. 

I  guess  you  remember  how  lovely  the  old  house  is. 
Oh,  father,  if  you  could  be  here  it  would  be  glorious! 
The  big  rooms  and  everything  clean  and  sweet!  Aunt 
Sybilla  and  Aunt  Mary  are  wonderful  housekeepers.  I 
believe  most  of  these  funny  people  called  Pennsylvania 
Dutch  are.  All  the  yards  and  porches  and  what  I  can  see 
of  their  houses  look  neat  as  a  new  pin.  Do  you  remem- 
ber the  cherry  trees  in  the  lot?  But  perhaps  these  are 
new  ones.  At  any  rate,  they  are  blooming  now  and  if 
Japan  has  anything  prettier  in  the  way  of  cherry  blos- 
soms you'd  have  to  take  me  over  to  prove  it.  I  climb  up 
and  sit  there  and  just  laugh  because  I'm  so  glad  cherries 
have  to  bloom  before  they  can  be  cherries !  Aunt  Sybilla 
works  in  the  garden  a  lot  and  when  I  told  her  I  like  to  do 
it  she  seemed  pleased.  She  gave  me  a  hoe  and  so  forth 
and  I  have  had  plenty  chance  to  dig  and  weed. 

I  certainly  am  glad  you  told  me  who  my  people  are. 
Now  I  feel  I  belong  to  somebody.  Aunt  Mary  says  she 
is  glad,  too,  but  the  other  two  haven't  expressed  any  such 
feeling  as  yet!  Bet  they  do  notice  the  presence  of  a 
lively  young  person  about  the  house,  though.  I  am  that, 
for  I  'can't  easily  be  anything  else.  I  break  into  some 
kind  of  noise  about  every  five  minutes.  One  of  my  nice 
habits  is  singing.  I  think  Aunt  Sybilla  got  nervous  at 
first  when  I  washed  the  dishes  to  the  tune  of  Killarney 
or  sang  Macushla  when  I  swept  the  kitchen,  but  I  pre- 
tended not  to  see  her  frowns  and  kept  right  on.  Now  I 
bet  she'd  miss  my  warbling  if  I  should  stop.  She  never 
sings,  at  least  not  when  I  can  hear  it.  Guess  she  must  be 
the  kind  that  will  die  with  all  her  music  in  her — alas! 
Now  if  she  had  to  boil  the  breakfast  eggs  she  wouldn't 


204    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

sing,  "  Onward,  Christian  Soldiers,"  one  verse  for  soft 
and  two  for  hard !  Her  chant  would  probably  be : 

"  A-a  f ew-oo-oo  more  ye-ye-ars  shall  ro-11, 

A-a  f  ew-oo-oo  more  sea-ea-ea-sons  come, 
And  we-e-e  shall  be-e-e  with-th  those  that  re-st 
A-a-sle-e-ep  with-in  the  tomb." 

By  the  time  that  verse  would  be  half  sung  the  eggs  would 
be  hard ! 

I  am  not  making  fun  of  the  way  she'd  sing,  for  I  can't 
sing  a  little  bit,  I  just  bubble  over  like  a  teakettle,  but  it 
makes  me  feel  better  clean  through.  Then  I  laugh  a  lot. 
There  is  something  funny  everywhere  to  laugh  about,  it 
strikes  me.  One  Sunday  in  Mennonite  Church  I  got  to 
thinking  what  a  funny  thing  a  handkerchief  was,  and  I 
started  to  laugh.  When  I  told  Aunt  Sybilla  after  we  got 
home  she  couldn't  see  why  that  made  me  laugh.  I  rather 
suspect  she  thought  I  had  a  screw  loose.  If  ever  I  make 
her  laugh,  a  loud,  merry  laugh,  I'll  chalk  it  in  the  chim- 
ney. One  day  when  it  rained  I  sang  and  she  asked  me 
what  in  the  world  I  could  find  to  sing  about  on  a  rainy 
day.  I  said  I  had  some  robin  in  me.  But  the  words  of 
the  song  did  not  please  her.  It  was  that  pretty  one  about, 
"  It  is  not  raining  rain  to  me,  it's  raining  daffodils."  She 
wanted  to  know  what  dumb  talk  that  was,  how  could  it 
rain  daffodils?  When  I  said  it  was  just  a  poet's  imagina- 
tion she  informed  me  that  her  granny  knew  as  much  as 
that  poet  then,  for  she  remembered  how  that  old  lady  had 
said,  when  it  rained  after  a  dry  spell  in  summer,  that  it 
was  raining  potatoes  or  corn.  Aunt  Sybilla  has  little  re- 
spect for  poets,  but  she  is  funny  at  times,  more  so  because 
she  has  no  idea  she  is  funny. 

Between  this  letter  and  the  next  you  can  imagine  how 


LETTERS  205 

busy  and  interested  I  am  in  exploring  my  new  home  and 
learning  to  know  my  relatives.  I  must  write  to  Miss 
Hughes  and  tell  her  all  about  it.  She  has  been  so  good 
to  me  that  even  if  I  do  find  and  like  loads  of  relatives  in 
the  years  to  come  I  shall  never  forget  her.  Only  for  her 
my  aunts  would  have  a  far  worse  specimen  of  humanity 
to  reform  in  Sarah  Burkhart.  I  feel  sorry  enough  for 
them  as  it  is;  it  must  be  an  ordeal  to  think  you  have  a 
quiet  tomb-like  house  and  then  have  a  young  girl  come 
whirling  in  to  stay.  For  me  it's  all  gold  and  silver  with 
rainbow  round  the  edges ;  that's  the  Irish  in  me ;  I  can  see 
the  rainbow  every  time. 

You  wrote  once  that  you  felt  guilty  because  you  took 
me  to  Red  Rose  Court,  but  I  can  forgive  you  anything, 
father,  because  you  gave  me  an  Irish  mother ! 

With  love, 

SARAH. 
DEAR  FATHER: 

I  was  up  in  the  attic  to-day — such  a  place !  I  im- 
agined I  felt  the  ghosts  of  many  dead  generations  brush 
against  me  as  I  stood  under  the  brown  rafters,  taking 
care,  however,  that  my  head  didn't  bump  the  ceiling !  I 
had  no  idea  an  attic  was  half  so  romantic  and  spooky 
and  nice !  It  gave  me  crawls  along  my  spine  and  shivers 
in  my  shoes.  I  saw  the  spinning  wheel  that  some  grand- 
mother, with  I  don't  know  how  many  greats  added,  used  to 
spin  the  flax  she  herself  had  helped  to  plant  and  get  ready 
for  the  wheel.  I  felt  as  though  I  were  back  in  history  to 
the  Thirteen  Original  Colonies  all  in  one  minute.  Then 
I  looked  around  and  found  a  copper  kettle,  a  mold  for 
making  candles,  a  quilting  frame,  a  hanging  bric-a-brac 
shelf  made  of  spools  and  a  few  little  boards.  How  that 
ever  escaped  from  the  parlor  I  can't  see.  Isn't  an  attic  a 


206    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

most  exciting  place !  But  I  wasn't  sent  up  to  investigate 
or  enjoy  it.  Aunt  Sybilla  sent  me  there  to  get  some  home- 
made soap  from  a  box  covered  with  a  heavy  board.  The 
first  box  I  looked  into  was  the  wrong  one  but  I  am  glad, 
for  thereby  I  found  some  old  pictures  I  treasure.  I  stole 
them,  took  them  for  my  own,  for  they  are  pictures  of  you 
when  you  were  a  boy.  When  I  looked  through  the  red 
plush  album  that  is  set  on  an  easel  on  the  marble-top 
parlor  table,  I  wondered  whether  there  were  no  pictures 
of  you.  You  can  imagine  how  pleased  I  was  to  find  some 
in  that  box  in  the  attic.  One  was  a  woman,  sweet  like 
Aunt  Mary,  with  a  little  boy  by  her  side;  the  other 
showed  the  same  boy  a  few  years  older,  standing  by  a 
fancy  gate  holding  a  big  hoop  in  his  hand.  They  must 
have  been  you  when  you  were  little.  So  I  salved  my 
conscience  by  thinking  nobody  had  a  better  right  to  them 
than  I,  and  here  they  are  in  my  room.  At  night  when  the 
door  is  shut  and  nobody  can  see,  I  take  them  out  of  my 
bureau  drawer  and  stand  them  on  the  top  of  it.  You 
were  such  a  dear  little  fellow !  Those  pictures  make  me 
sad  but  glad  at  the  same  time. 

Here's  some  pleasant  news- — I'm  working  in  the  store 
office  for  grandfather.  If  I  were  getting  a  thousand  a 
month  for  being  secretary  to  some  millionaire  I  couldn't 
be  gladder  than  I  am  here.  I  am  really  earning  money. 
Grandfather  says  I'm  doing  well  and  he  is  paying  me  for 
the  work  after  giving  me  a  home.  He  does  have  a  fine 
sense  of  honor.  If  only  you  two  had  understood  each 
other  better  years  ago — but  what's  the  use  of  a  post- 
mortem now? 

The  people  of  Fairview  are  having  the  time  of  their 
lives  this  week.  Everybody  in  the  town  seems  to  need 
nails,  putty  or  paint.  Bet  there  won't  be  an  unpainted 


LETTERS  207 

porch  or  a  loose  board  in  the  whole  town.  Of  all  the 
customers  in  that  store  since  I  am  working  in  that  glass 
office !  One  old  man  who  owed  a  bill  for  five  years  came 
in  and  asked  me  how  much  it  was.  He  paid  it,  two  dol- 
lars and  ten  cents,  and  he  acted  like  he  thought  it  was 
worth  it  to  have  a  good  look  at  the  girl  who  had  such  a 
strange  record.  If  grandfather  charged  admission  he'd 
make  enough  to  retire  in  a  week  more.  But  I  should 
worry;  if  I'm  good  advertisement  for  the  store  then  at 
least  I'm  good  for  something. 

There  is  a  rector  lives  next  door.  He  is  so  much  nicer 
than  he  sounds,  just  like  any  other  human  being.  He 
says  I  am  original  and  amusing  and  once  he  called  me 
clever.  I  don't  know  how  he  figures  that  out.  But  he  is 
interesting  and  I  am  glad  he  lives  next  door.  Sometimes 
in  the  evening  when  we  sit  on  the  porch  he  jumps  across 
the  hedge  and  comes  to  talk  with  us  a  while.  Hedges  are 
convenient  things!  He  sat  with  us  several  hours  last 
evening  and  asked  me  to  tell  him  about  Sunset  Mountain. 
Aunt  Sybilla  and  grandfather  went  in  after  a  while  but 
Aunt  Mary  stuck  to  me  like  the  good  person  she  is. 
Once  when  I  was  telling  about  some  of  the  girls  I  felt  a 
tear  drop  from  her  eyes  on  my  hands.  Then  I  told  them 
about  Red  Rose  Court,  the  little  Maloney  baby  and  how  I 
used  to  sit  on  the  curb  and  hold  it  and  try  to  keep  it 
amused  and  not  too  hot,  but  it  died  just  the  same.  The 
rector  laid  his  hand  on  my  shoulder  and  said  something 
about  a  Madonna,  but  I  don't  know  why  he  said  that.  I 
guess  he  didn't  call  me  that — he  couldn't!  The  ragged, 
dirty  little  youngster  that  was  Sade  then  was  anything 
but  a  Madonna.  I  was  just  a  poor  kid  who  loved  the 
other  ones.  They  had  a  hard  time  in  that  Court.  While 
I  was  talking  about  it  I  could  imagine  I  was  right  back 


208    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

there,  smelled  the  cabbage  and  worse  things.  I  ran  from 
the  porch  and  picked  a  few  stems  of  lilies-of-the-valley 
and  poked  my  nose  into  them.  When  the  rector  asked 
what  I  was  doing  I  told  him  I  had  to  get  the  smell  of  Red 
Rose  Court  out  of  my  head.  Then  he  said  something 
about  the  sweetness  of  a  noble  soul  being  more  potent 
than  the  perfume  of  a  perishable  flower  and  that,  there- 
fore, I  didn't  need  any  lilies-of-the-valley.  I  didn't  an- 
swer him,  for  I  wasn't  quite  sure  what  he  meant.  Rec- 
tors do  say  things  over  one's  head,  sometimes !  But  I 
did  understand  the  next  thing  he  said :  "  Sarah,  you  have 
had  a  varied  life  but  it  has  not  spoiled  you.  That  big, 
sympathizing  heart  of  yours  is  all  gold."  I  wanted  to 
cry — coming  from  the  Reverend  Snavely  that  was  much 
to  me.  Then  he  no  longer  thinks  I  am  that  "  heretic, 
rebel,  a  thing  to  flout  " ! 

I  asked  him  if  he  did.  "  No,  no,  indeed !  "  he  told  me. 
"  I  know  you  are  not  that." 

I  suppose  it  all  went  over  Aunt  Mary's  head  but  she 
smiled  and  looked  interested. 

Reverend  Snavely  has  stacks  of  good  books  and  he  has 
told  me  to  come  over  any  time  and  help  myself.  If  he  is 
gone  the  housekeeper  will  show  me  where  to  get  them.  I 
have  gone  over  several  times  and  have  always  taken  the 
precaution  to  wait  until  I  saw  him  go  up  the  street. 
Then  I  ran  in,  selected  in  a  hurry,  and  was  gone  before 
the  owner  could  return.  I  wonder  why  I  act  so,  but 
something  seems  to  make  me.  Guess  I  want  to  keep  the 
neighbors  from  gossip.  For  myself  it  wouldn't  matter 
much.  I  have  so  many  black  marks  now  that  Fairview 
scratching  a  few  more  against  me  would  not  greatly  con- 
cern me,  but  I'd  rather  lose  my  right  hand  than  be  the 
cause  of  any  dark  hintings  against  the  fair  name  of  that 


LETTERS  209 

man.  His  loan  of  books  to  me  is  just  one  of  the  many 
kind  ways  he  has  of  helping  others.  I  do  devour  a  book ! 
Sometimes  when  Aunt  Sybilla  calls  me  I  don't  hear  her 
if  I  am  reading.  She  refuses  to  believe  that,  says  it  is 
absolutely  impossible  not  to  hear  her,  but  then  she  has 
never  read  a  book  of  fiction  in  her  life.  I  read  something 
like  this  once  upon  a  time,  "  If  I  had  two  loaves  of  bread 
I'd  sell  one  and  buy  white  hyacinths  for  my  soul."  I 
think  that  is  the  whole  trouble  with  this  family  of  mine. 
There  is  too  much  bread  and  not  enough  white  hyacinths. 
But  Aunt  Mary  could  easily  be  won  over  to  my  way  of 
thinking ;  she  is  after  "  me  own  heart." 

I  am  kept  rather  busy.  Sometimes  I  wonder  how  the 
place  ran  before  I  came.  Those  poor  aunts  almost  work 
themselves  to  death  and  I  know  it  is  so  unnecessary. 
What's  the  use  scrubbing  a  porch  that  is  clean?  Why 
waste  energy  sweeping  the  garden  walks?  Why  bake 
stacks  of  pies  and  cakes  when  simpler  food  is  more 
wholesome?  If  they  heard  me  I'd  probably  be  called  un- 
grateful and  critical,  but  then  it's  the  truth.  Not  that  I 
mind  working.  I'm  glad  to  do  it  so  long  as  it's  in  my 
own  home.  Even  the  scrubbing  seems  a  glorified  task 
when  I  stop  to  think  that  it  is  the  home  of  my  ancestors 
and  my  own  long-lost  home  that  I  am  helping  to  scrub. 
Guess  the  girls  that  had  to  do  it  all  their  years  aren't  so 
crazy  about  it ! 

I  must  tell  you  about  Mrs.  Roth.  This  morning  she 
came  over.  She  said  she  was  after  a  recipe  for  crullers 
— bet  you  she  knew  how  to  make  them !  She  had  seen 
the  rector  on  our  porch  last  evening  and  probably  had  a 
mental  fit  about  it.  If  it  had  been  her  Dan  she'd  fetched 
him  home  by  the  ear!  Dan  tries  so  hard  to  be  nice  to 
me  and  if  he  weren't  worse  than  an  uncoated  quinine  pill 


210    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

to  swallow,  I'd  let  him  run  over  here  and  take  me  for 
sodas  just  to  pay  her  back  for  some  of  the  gossip  she 
spread  about  me.  But  even  the  sweetness  of  that  re- 
venge would  not  pay  for  the  ordeal  of  having  Dan 
around  me. 

Mrs.  Roth  managed  to  bring  the  conversation  round  to 
the  rector  and  I  saw  the  crafty  gleam  of  satisfaction  steal 
across  her  face  as  she  said,  "  I  suppose  you  have  heard 
that  Reverend  Snavely  has  a  habit  of  making  girls  care 
for  him  and  then  toss  them  over  for  a  new  face.  Isn't  it 
too  bad!  They  say  that  where  he  went  to  school  there 
were  two  who  were  positively  crazy  over  him,  that  one 
girl  had  her  trousseau  started,  thinking  he  meant  business 
by  his  love-making  and  that  ever  so  many  others  were 
dead  in  love  with  him,  but  he  made  fools  of  them  all.  If 
he  ever  tries  it  on  any  of  the  girls  at  St.  Paul's  he'll  be 
asked  to  resign,  but  I  guess  he  knows  better  than  to  do  it. 
I  often  say  it's  a  pity  those  attractive,  magnetic  men  al- 
ways do  such  tricks.  Thank  goodness  my  Dan  would 
never  do  that !  " 

Her  Dan — I  never  heard  her  speak  that  she  didn't 
thank  God  her  Dan  was  so  honorable.  But  he's  not  dead 
yet.  She  may  be  living  in  a  glass  house  some  of  these 
days  and  her  bricks  will  do  damage  to  her  own  building. 

I  am  sorry  she  said  that  about  the  rector,  for  I  like  him. 
Of  course  she  wouldn't  dare  say  a  lie  about  him.  But 
then  why  should  I  concern  myself  about  his  affairs  ?  He 
is  kind  to  me  and  entertaining  when  he  jumps  across  the 
hedge  and  no  matter  how  many  hearts  he  has  broken  he 
hasn't  the  ghost  of  a  chance  to  break  mine.  So  much  for 
the  rector! 

Grandfather  is  keeping  me  on  at  the  store.  I'm  to  get 
more  money  next  month.  Aunt  Sybilla  is  teaching  me  to 


LETTERS  211 

save  something  for  a  rainy  day,  for  she  says  it  comes  to 
everybody  and  I  shall  be  prepared  for  it. 

They  are  so  good  to  me.  I  earn  my  board,  so  they  say, 
by  helping  with  the  work  after  the  store  closes  and  Satur- 
day and  so  the  money  I  earn  is  mine  to  spend  for  clothes 
and  put  to  bank.  It  seems  too  funny  to  have  a  pocket- 
book  with  money  in  it !  After  six  years  without  a  blessed 
penny  to  spend  I  have  money  of  my  own  and  can  buy 
candy  or  a  magazine  or  something  else  entirely  unneces- 
sary. I  feel  like  Croesus. 

I  am  counting  the  months  until  we  can  be  together. 
Have  you  any  plans  ?  Shall  we  live  in  New  Jersey  or  in 
your  own  Lancaster  County?  I  can  work  and  keep  a 
home  for  you.  Do  you  know  you  and  I  have  never  had  a 
real  one  together  since  I  can  remember — that's  the  sad- 
dest thing !  I  shove  it  from  my  thoughts  as  far  as  I  can 
but  sometimes  it  comes  back  like  a  cat  you  cart  away  and 
gets  home  before  you  do.  Never  mind,  father,  we'll 
make  up  for  the  precious  time  we  lost  together.  I  am 
sorry  you  are  not  feeling  better  but  hope  you  are  much 
improved  by  this  time. 

I  just  thought  of  Johnny  Maloney,  the  time  his  father 
died  and  the  priest  came  to  Red  Rose  Court  to  see  them. 
Johnny  as  usual  had  a  terribly  dirty  face  and  his  mother 
rubbed  her  apron  over  it  to  get  off  the  top  layer.  Johnny 
yelled  and  said,  "  I  don't  care  who's  here !  I  won't  have 
my  face  washed  with  spit ! "  The  priest  laughed  like 
anything,  for  he  was  Irish  too.  Hope  you  feel  better 
now.  I  always  do  after  I  send  you  a  letter.  But  when 
we  are  together  again  and  there'll  be  no  need  of  letters — 
then  Sarah  Burkhart  will  be  the  happiest  girl  in  seven 
states!  With  love, 

SADE. 


212    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

Away  in  New  Jersey  the  man  who  read  the  last  letter 
closed  his  eyes  as  if  to  shut  out  a  cruel  agony;  his  thin 
body  shook  in  a  spasm  of  pain  as  he  lay  back  on  his  pil- 
lows, white  and  worn.  He  was  dying  of  the  White 
Plague!  Haunting  memories  and  torturing  remorse 
gripped  his  soul. 

"  I  can't  die  without  seeing  her ! "  he  said  at  length  to 
himself.  "  I  must  write  to  her.  The  poor  child — it  will 
be  a  sorrow  for  her,  but  youth  recovers  quickly  and  then 
— I'm  thinking  dying  will  be  the  best  thing  I've  done  in 
many  years."  A  little  later  he  called  a  nurse  and  asked 
for  writing  materials.  Then  he  began  a  letter,  not  to 
Sarah,  but  to  the  father  whose  face  he  had  not  seen  in 
many  years. 

DEAR  FATHER: 

I  scarcely  know  whether  I  have  the  right  to  call 
you  that  or  if  you  wish  me  to  do  so,  but  we  can't  get 
away  from  the  fact  that  you  are  my  father,  no  matter 
how  I  have  disgraced  the  name  you  gave  me.  And  I 
have  done  that.  Sarah  can  tell  you  more  than  you  want 
to  know  about  me.  I  shudder  when  I  think  of  what  the 
child  was  exposed  to  during  those  years  in  the  slums — 
how  can  I  expect  to  be  forgiven  ?  But  what  I  am  writing 
about  is  this — I  am  out  of  jail,  pardoned  and  in  a  hospital 
— to  die !  I  decided  not  to  tell  the  poor  child,  to  let  her 
be  happy  and  go  on  dreaming  of  our  little  home,  but 
somehow  I  can't  do  it.  Consumption  has  me  in  its 
clutches  and  the  doctors  say  I  have  just  a  little  while 
longer  to  live.  Sarah  has  written  such  sweet  letters  to 
me — if  you  knew  what  they  mean  to  me !  To  have  kept 
her  love  and  devotion  through  all  my  sins  is  more  than  I 
could  have  hoped  for  and  yet,  if  there  be  any  spark  of 


LETTERS  213 

repentance  in  me,  any  of  the  good  lights  my  mother  kin- 
dled in  my  heart,  their  survival  is  due  to  the  great  pure 
heart  of  Sarah,  who  has  in  her  make-up  all  that  is  noble 
and  fine  of  my  mother  and  her  own.  I  can't  do  less  than 
tell  her  the  truth  so  that  the  shock  of  my  death  will  not 
be  too  sudden.  I'd  like  to  live  just  for  her  sake,  that  the 
little  home  she  had  dreamed  of  might  be  real,  but  it  can't 
be.  She  has  written  to  me  about  the  old  home,  how 
wonderful  it  seems  to  her,  how  kind  you  are  to  her.  Oh, 
father,  don't  be  too  hard  on  her,  too  strict !  She  is  young 
and  the  ways  of  youth  are  changed  from  the  time  when 
you  were  young.  Don't  be  too  strict !  I  can't  blame  my 
wasted  life  on  you.  It  was  my  fault,  and  mine  alone,  for 
I  was  always  weak  of  will  and  did  not  try  to  grow  strong. 
So  long  as  my  wife  lived  and  I  had  her  to  lean  on  I  was 
all  right,  but  when  trouble  came  my  way  I  tottered.  That 
is  my  fault,  I  admit  it.  But,  father,  I  do  say  you  were 
wrong  in  turning  against  me  because  I  married  the  girl  I 
did.  I  want  to  say  I  was  never  sorry  for  one  minute 
that  I  married  her.  That's  the  one  thing  J  do  not  re- 
gret. She  was  as  good  and  fine  as  ever  walked  this  old 
world.  But  I  am  ashamed  I  brought  disgrace  on  you  and 
Sarah,  her  child  and  mine.  I  know  how  you  always  up- 
held your  honor,  how  you  wanted,  above  all  else,  to  keep 
the  Burkhart  name  free  from  shame.  I  am  sorry  I  failed 
you  there.  I  ask  your  forgiveness  for  all  the  sorrow  I 
have  caused  you,  not  for  marrying  the  girl  I  did,  but  for 
the  sins  I  committed  after  she  died.  My  last  favor  I  ask 
from  you — may  I  come  home  to  die  ?  Will  you  deny  me 
that?  I  thought  this  morning  of  the  roses  that  used  to 
grow  by  the  kitchen  door,  against  the  porch  rail,  and 
scent  the  whole  place  in  June.  Each  morning  as  I  ran 
down  for  breakfast  and  the  open  door  let  in  the  sunlight 


THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

I  smelled  the  roses  first  thing.  I  never  seem  to  have  got- 
ten that  smell  out  of  my  nostrils.  Father,  I  want  to  see 
the  old  place  once  more.  The  gardens,  the  flower-beds 
with  the  swept,  weeded  earthen  walks  between,  the  old 
trees  I  used  to  climb,  and  the  house — oh,  how  I  have 
longed  to  wander  through  it!  Even  the  parlor  with  its 
haircloth  sofa  and  the  plush  album  on  the  marble-top 
table  would  look  fine  to  me.  And  the  girls  and  you — 
there  is  something  binds  us  to  our  own  no  matter  how  far 
we  roam  or  how  little  we  deserve  the  kindness.  But  the 
roses  call  me  most  these  June  days.  I  think  if  I  could 
bury  my  face  in  them  I'd  die  happier.  Somehow  they 
make  me  feel  again  more  like  the  innocent  boy  who  used 
to  think  his  father,  though  strict,  was  the  best  father  in 
all  the  wide  world.  We  have  both  wandered  far  from 
those  old  days  of  confidence  and  love  but  I  am  hoping  we 
can  have  a  few  before  I  go.  If  you  can  find  it  possible 
to  forgive  me  and  let  me  come  home— I  can't  write  what 
it  will  mean  to  me.  If  not,  then  send  Sarah  to  me  that  I 

may  see  her  once  more. 

Your  son, 

JERRY. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  PRODIGAL 

JEREMIAH  BURKHART  looked  long  at  the  letter  of  his 
son.  So  the  boy  was  dying — dying,  and  he  asked  for- 
giveness and  the  privilege  of  dying  at  home.  Memory 
unveiled  pictures  of  the  little  lad,  the  first  born  of  the 
home.  Once  the  boy  had  disobeyed  and  received  merited 
punishment  and  the  father  had  never  forgotten  the  child's 
frank  confession,  "  Pop,  there's  something  in  me  that 
says  I'm  to  be  bad  and  there's  another  something  that 
tells  me  to  be  good.  How  am  I  going  to  make  the  good 
one  talk  loudest  ?  "  Was  that  an  early  evidence  of  the 
weakness  of  the  boy?  Had  they  helped  the  good  to 
"  talk  loudest  "  ?  How  the  mother  had  rejoiced  when  the 
first  child  was  a  boy  and  how  proudly  she  had  named  him 
Jeremiah!  Little  pictures  of  those  happy  days  came 
back  to  the  old  man  like  flecks  of  light  upon  a  darkened 
way — the  first  school  bag  with  its  mysteries  of  pencils, 
books  and  so  forth;  the  first  money  earned  in  the  store 
and  proudly  spent  for  an  aluminum  saucepan  for  mother ; 
the  shouts  of  joy  at  the  first  ice  skates  brought  from  the 
store  as  a  reward  for  faithful  shoveling  of  snow ;  the  first 
long  trousers  and  the  teasing  of  Mary  and  Sybilla  as  the 
abashed  boy  blushed  and  tried  to  look  important ;  the  first 
days  of  his  absence  from  the  old  home  while  he'  pursued 
knowledge  in  the  big  city — the  stormy  scene  when  the 
discovery  of  that  dreadful  woman  blighted  the  beauty  of 
their  serene,  harmonious  lives.  How  the  gentle  mother 


216    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

had  clung  to  her  boy  even  in  the  midst  of  his  disgrace, 
how  she  trammeled  her  own  hurts  in  the  dust  and  thought 
only  of  him  and  how  to  assuage  the  pain  in  the  hearts  of 
the  others  who  shared  the  burden  of  shame!  She  had 
tried  to  soften  the  father's  heart,  to  make  him  see  that  all 
was  not  lost,  that  perhaps,  after  all,  the  woman  Jerry 
loved  would  be  so  much  better  than  they  feared,  that  she 
might  be  redeemed  and  be  worthy  of  acceptance  in  the 
home  of  the  Burkhart  family.  Had  it  been  a  mistake  to 
attempt  supervision,  control,  over  the  young  man?  Had 
they  been  too  quick  to  condemn?  For  the  first  time  in 
the  years  of  estrangement  Jeremiah,  senior,  felt  a  doubt 
as  to  the  wisdom  of  his  method  of  dealing  with  the  boy. 
Might  it  be  possible  that  if  the  boy  had  had  his  old  home 
to  turn  to  for  refuge  in  his  great  sorrow  he  might  have 
been  brought  into  the  fold  once  more  and  lived  a  useful, 
commendable  life  among  his  own  people? 

Brought  face  to  face  with  doubt  and  sensing  the  truth 
that  he  had  so  long  hidden  from  his  own  soul  the  old  man, 
rigorous  in  his  worship  and  unshakable  in  his  duty  as  he 
saw  it  delineated,  suddenly  bowed  his  head  and  pondered 
over  the  years  that  were  gone.  That  hour  he  examined 
his  soul,  his  actions,  his  words  to  the  erring  son,  as  mi- 
nutely and  unflinchingly  as  the  student  with  a  microscope 
in  search  of  life-destroying  elements.  When  he  raised 
his  face  there  were  new  lines  graven  upon  it.  After  a 
moment  he  rose,  walked  to  the  stairs  and  looked  up,  a 
purpose  deepening  in  his  heart. 

The  letter  in  hand,  he  mounted  the  steps  in  his  slow 
way  and  tapped  on  Sarah's  door. 

"  Come  in,"  she  called. 

As  the  door  was  opened  and  her  grandfather  stood 
there  she  gasped.  What  had  happened?  He  had  never 


THE  PRODIGAL  217 

before  sought  her  there.  What  was  in  the  wind,  what 
meant  that  new  look  upon  his  face  ? 

"Anything  wrong  ?  "  she  asked,  noting  the  letter  in  his 
hand. 

The  man's  gaze  was  fixed  on  the  two  pictures  on  her 
bureau,  the  ones  she  had  found  that  day  in  the  attic  and 
taken  without  leave. 

"  Where'd  you  get  them  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  faced  him  with  the  rigidity  of  a  mother  tigress  at 
bay.  Her  face  flamed  with  the  pent-up  pain  of  her  heart 
for  her  father.  "  They  are  mine !  "  she  cried.  "  I  found 
them  on  the  attic  where  you  had  put  them  when  there  was 
no  room  for  them  among  the  rest  of  the  family  pictures 
in  the  plush  album  in  the  parlor.  I  found  them  and  took 
them  so  they  might  be  in  the  sight  of  the  only  person  in 
this  world  who  loves  him — my  father's  daughter!  You 
needn't  try  to  make  me  hide  them,  or  stop  loving  him! 
I'll  love  my  father  no  matter  what  he  has  done.  He  is 
my  father  still,  and  he  loved  my  lovely  Irish  mother  even 
if  you  didn't,  and  he  made  her  happy  and  no  matter  how 
good  you  are  to  me  I'd  give  everything  up  just  to  see  him 
happy  again." 

She  ended  pantingly,  on  the  verge  of  tears. 

"  Sarah "  The  man's  voice  trembled  and  it  was 

so  unusual  that  it  compelled  the  attention  of  the  girl. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  she  asked,  scenting  some  alarm 
in  the  manner  of  the  old  man. 

"  Read  this  letter." 

He  watched  her  as  she  read.  When  the  import  of  the 
writing  reached  her  she  turned  and  looked  at  him. 
"  Oh,"  she  cried,  "  my  poor  father !  Dying — really  dy- 
ing! Never  to  have  that  little  home  we  planned  to  enjoy 
when  he  was  free !  Never  to  have  happiness  to  make  up 


218        THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  (CURS 

for  these  horrible  years!  To  die  without "  The 

pathos  of  it  overwhelmed  her  and  she  flung  herself  on  a 
chair,  hid  her  head  upon  her  arms  and  wept. 

"  Now,  now,"  she  felt  the  hand  of  the  old  man  laid 
upon  her  hair.  "  You  mustn't  cry  that  way,  Sarah — 
don't  cry  " — emotion  caused  his  own  voice  to  quaver — 
"  don't  cry,  now.  You  and  me  will  go  and  fetch  him 
home." 

At  that  she  raised  her  tear-smeared  face.  There  was 
gladness  in  her  voice  despite  the  sorrow.  "  You'll  let  him 
come  home  ?  " 

"  It's  where  he  belongs.  I  been  a  hard  old  man,  a 
hard  old  man!  What  you  said  to  me  Easter  made  me 
think  but  I  wouldn't  do  it  to  listen  to  you  right.  Now  I 
wish  I  had.  I  guess  I  never  learned  what  the  word  for- 
give means.  Mebbe  I  need  to  ask  your  pop  what  he's 
askin'  me  in  the  letter  to  forgive." 

The  girl  flung  her  arms  around  the  neck  of  the  man 
and  their  tears  mingled.  Such  demonstrations  of  feeling 
were  foreign  to  him  but  he  met  them  effectually.  Some 
part  of  his  starved,  cold  heart  must  have  been  awakened 
by  the  girl's  caress.  He  held  her  close  to  him  and  whis- 
pered, "  You're  a  blessin'  sent  from  God."  Then  he 
kissed  her. 

"  Grandpap,"  she  said  tremulously,  "  if  my  father 
weren't  dying  I'd  be  as  happy  as  seven  heavens  could 
make  me !  It's  the  first  time  you  ever  kissed  me  and  the 
first  time  I  feel  you  like  me.  You  do  like  me  a  little, 
even  if  I  had  an  Irish  mother  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Sarah,  don't  say  that !  I  wish  I  had  known  your 
mom.  I'd  like  to  have  known  the  woman  that  could  take 
my  boy  from  his  home  and  have  him  be  so  satisfied  with 
just  her  that  after  all  he  went  through  since  then  he  can 


THE  PRODIGAL  219 

still  say  he  is  glad  he  married  her.  I  guess  she  must 
have  been  better  than  I  knew*  If  abody  can  judge  from 
you  any  your  mom  must  have  been  all  right." 

"  Grandpap,"  smiles  and  tears  mingled  in  the  face  of 
the  girl,  "  I'll  love  you  all  the  rest  of  my  life  for  that 
speech!  I'm  glad  I'm  half  Irish  but  I'm  proud  to-day 
that  the  other  half  of  me  is  Pennsylvania  Dutch.  That 
keeps  the  Irish  anchored  to  the  earth  and,  I  hope,  fur- 
nishes me  with  a  little  sense.  Then  father  will  be  coming 
home,  back  to  the  old  home  he  never  forgot  or  ceased  to 
want — you'll  bring  him  back  ?  " 

"  We'll  fetch  him,  you  and  me." 

Several  days  later  the  Burkhart  house  in  Fairview 
sheltered  another  member  of  the  family,  the  prodigal  who 
had  come  home  to  die.  The  meeting  between  father  and 
son,  who  had  not  met  in  twenty  years,  was  pathetic.  The 
elder  man,  thoroughly  eager  to  become  reconciled,  seeing 
his  former  blindness  and  injustice  and  repentant  concern- 
ing them,  stood  aghast  before  the  son.  Emaciated,  with 
the  marks  of  his  relentless  disease  upon  him,  the  younger 
man  rose  to  meet  the  father  he  had  so  sorely  grieved. 
Like  the  prodigal  of  yore  he  humbled  himself  but  was 
quickly  drawn  into  the  arms  of  the  parent. 

Sarah's  eyes  filled  with  tears  as  she  saw  the  reunion  of 
the  two  men  who  had  come  to  mean  so  much  in  her  life. 
Some  intuition  of  her  sex  made  her  see  how  unhappy  the 
life  of  the  grandfather  must  have  been  through  the  years 
of  estrangement,  how  deeply  the  repentance  ploughed 
into  his  heart.  Old  Jeremiah  did  nothing  by  half  meas- 
ures. He  gathered  his  son  to  his  bosom  as  a  mother 
might  have  done. 

"  Father,"  she  said  after  the  misunderstandings  were 
swept  away,  "you  don't  look  as  sick  as  I  feared  you 


220    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

would.  I  know  after  you  get  home  and  have  that  good 
Pennsylvania  Dutch  cooking  and  your  own  people  to  care 
for  you  you  will  feel  much  better !  " 

The  father  smiled  at  the  delusion.  She  would  know 
soon  enough,  poor  child! 

It  was  June  when  the  three  returned  to  Fairview.  The 
old-fashioned  roses  were  blooming  by  the  kitchen  door. 
Sarah  brought  to  the  sick  man,  propped  in  a  chair  on  the 
balcony,  great  armfuls  of  the  pink  blossoms.  Aunt  Mary 
sat  long  hours  by  the  side  of  the  returned  brother,  trying 
to  fill  the  gap  of  years,  telling  him  bits  of  news  of  old 
school  friends  and  acquaintances,  bringing  back  to  him 
some  of  the  rosy  dreams  of  his  boyhood.  Aunt  Sybilla 
seldom  sat  on  the  balcony ;  she  was  less  willing  to  accept 
the  long  estranged  brother  as  one  of  the  family.  Of 
course  she  knew  that  it  was  perfectly  right,  Christian  and 
only  decent,  to  take  him  back  after  he  expressed  a  desire 
to  die  in  the  old  home,  but  she  was  merely  paying  him 
stereotyped  kindness.  She  cooked  dishes  nourishing  and 
palatable  for  him — that  was  her  duty,  but  she  did  not 
feign  a  welcome  she  did  not  feel.  In  the  man's  hours  of 
utter  desolation  and  crushing  unhappiness  he  never  had 
any  consolation  from  the  stern,  uncompromising  Sybilla. 
She  had  not  yet  learned  to  include  in  her  vocabulary  the 
magnificent  word  forgive.  She  accepted  his  presence  as 
a  last  addition  to  the  burden  he  had  laid  upon  them  by  his 
wil fulness.  Sarah  marveled  at  her.  How  could  the 
woman  remain  so  steely  when  the  angel  of  death  was 
hovering  over  the  home?  But  the  girl  had  ample  cause 
for  joy  in  the  miracle  she  beheld  each  time  she  looked 
into  the  face  of  her  grandfather.  He  was  no  longer 
stern,  cold,  critical.  The  softening  influence  of  the  rec- 
onciliation with  his  son  changed  his  very  countenance. 


THE  PRODIGAL  221 

Fairview  fairly  tingled  with  the  new  subject  for  its 
backyard-conversation-exchange,  its  parlor  confidences 
and  store-news-dispensaries. 

Young  Jeremiah  Burkhart  was  home  to  die!  The 
news  was  sent  around  in  record  time.  Mrs.  Roth  ran 
across  the  street  immediately  to  offer  her  help  and  bring 
some  lamb  broth.  She  was  so  thankful  there  was  no 
criminal  in  her  family  that  she  felt  like  doing  some 
real  acts  of  charity  to  show  her  appreciation  and  grati- 
tude. 

The  rector  came  across  the  hedge  one  evening  and 
Sarah  mentally  blessed  him  for  his  natural,  friendly 
greeting  to  her  father. 

"  Father  is  anxious  to  meet  you,  Reverend  Snavely.  I 
have  told  him  all  about  you." 

"All — that's  not  fair!  You  should  have  allowed  him 
to  draw  his  own  conclusions  instead  of  telling  what  a 
paragon  I  am." 

"  There,  that  sounds  Irish !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  bet 
you  are  part  Irish." 

They  laughed,  as  people  under  high  tension  are  glad  to 
laugh  at  trifles.  The  rector  shook  hands  with  the  man 
and  sat  down.  A  soft  summer  breeze,  invigorating  and 
health-renewing,  blew  across  the  lawn,  but  the  pallid 
cheeks  of  the  man,  with  their  hectic  daub  of  crimson, 
presaged  the  advent  of  the  Unbidden  Guest.  The  rec- 
tor's heart  swelled  with  pity  at  the  sight,  the  face  was  so 
strikingly  emblematic  of  the  man's  life — wasted !  That  a 
human  life  could  be  so  squandered 

Sarah's  voice  recalled  him  and  the  Reverend  Snavely 
turned  to  the  ex-convict.  A  new  regard  for  her  neighbor 
sprang  to  the  girl's  heart  as  she  saw  how  friendly  and  en- 
tertaining he  could  be  to  the  wrecked,  wretched  man  on 


222    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

the  balcony.  She  did  not  go  beyond  that — he  was  a  man 
one  could  admire  and  like. 

After  the  rector  left  the  sick  man  lay  pondering.  So 
Jimmie  Snavely  had  grown  into  a  fine  man  like  that !  A 
preacher  and  attractive — what  an  ideal  mate  for  Sarah. 
Then  he  groaned.  Would  ever  a  preacher  want  to  marry 
the  daughter  of  a  convict?  His  heart  contracted  with  a 
new  pain  as  he  realized  anew  how  hardly  is  it  possible  for 
the  sower  of  the  whirlwind  to  reap  the  whirlwind  alone. 
Others,  innocent,  must  share  in  the  harvest  of  tears  and 
regrets. 

In  the  days  that  followed  Sarah  clung  to  her  father  like 
a  shadow.  Her  grandfather  had  insisted  she  leave  the 
work  at  the  store  to  others  and  devote  her  time  to  the 
man  who  was  so  surely  dying.  At  first  she  hoped  against 
hope, -but  gradually  she  realized  that  for  the  man  who 
had  paid  the  penalty  of  the  law  for  his  crime  there  was 
being  exacted  another,  greater  penalty.  Life  was  slip- 
ping away  from  him  like  sand  through  the  fingers  of  a 
child. 

Many  afternoons  the  old  man  also  left  the  busy  store 
and  sat  with  the  little  company  on  the  balcony.  The  girl 
sensed  how  strong  was  the  renewed  affection  between  the 
two  men.  Over  and  over  she  had  them  tell  her  about  the 
dear  grandmother  who  had  been  so  like  gentle  Aunt 
Mary.  Over  and  over  tales  of  the  man's  boyhood  were 
told  for  her  enjoyment.  And  more,  the  grandfather  en- 
couraged the  younger  man  to  tell  of  those  wonderful  days 
when  the  Irish  mother  of  Sarah  had  brightened  his  life. 
When  old  Jeremiah  Burkhart  could  sit  and  hear  the  ac- 
tress daughter-in-law  extolled  and  shake  his  head  approv- 
ingly some  radical  change  had  surely  been  effected  in 
him.  A  mellow  tenderness  touched  the  face  of  old  Jere- 


THE  PRODIGAL  223 

miah  those  days,  as  the  rugged  lines  softened  under  the 
communion  with  his  son. 

The  days,  for  all  their  lovely  June  sounds  and  sights, 
were  chimerical  to  the  people  who  waited  while  one  of 
their  flock  drifted  into  the  valley  of  the  shadow.  What 
hope  was  in  the  heart  of  the  man  as  he  neared  the  disso- 
lution of  body  and  spirit?  Once  the  father  asked  him 
whether  he  would  like  to  see  a  Mennonite  preacher,  but 
the  ill  man  smiled  and  said  no,  he  was  all  right.  Only 
the  Reverend  Snavely,  a  frequent  visitor  to  the  balcony, 
could  have  told  what  transpired  in  the  heart  of  the  dying 
man  those  last  days. 

The  end  came  in  July.  The  heat  of  the  little  town  sent 
the  man  gasping.  He  lay  inertly  on  his  pillows.  Sarah, 
hovering  about  him  as  a  mother  round  a  child,  caught  his 
whispered  desire  to  have  her  come  closer.  She  bent  over 
him  and  he  told  her,  "  Sarah,  you  don't  have  to  be  told, 
but  I  want  to  tell  you,  it  doesn't  pay  to  do  wrong.  What 
if  God  forgives,  there  is  still  the  bitter  remorse  to  drive 
one  almost  insane.  It  bites  into  me  when  I  think  of  what 
might  have  been — what  might  have  been !  " 

"  But,  father,  you  know,  haven't  you  read,  '  Though 
your  sins  be  as  scarlet  they  shall  be  as  white  as  snow  '  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know !  But  the  scarlet  remains  in  your 
memory.  It's  hard  to  forget  the  wasted  years.  Sarah, 
you  should  be  glad  for  me — I  am  hoping  that  death  for 
me  means  going  to  her." 

In  Fairview  attendance  at  funerals  is  considered  a  sol- 
emn obligation.  Neighbors,  friends  and  relatives  gather 
to  pay  respect  to  the  deceased.  The  death  of  a  member 
of  the  Burkhart  family,  even  the  black  sheep  of  the  fold, 
was  the  signal  for  black  clothes  to  be  brought  out  and 
preparations  made  for  a  "  big  funeral."  Part  of  the  rite 


224    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

was  the  viewing  of  the  body  by  the  public.  Many  per- 
sons, morbidly  curious,  came  to  the  house  on  Main  Street 
and  passed  before  the  casket  where  rested  the  remains  of 
Jeremiah  Junior. 

"  My,  ain't  he  took  off  a  lot ! "  was  the  comment  of 
several  neighbors.  Others  saw  in  the  death  so  much  sor- 
row that  they  sobbed  audibly  as  they  stood  in  the  dark- 
ened parlor  and  looked  down  at  the  still  face  of  the  man 
about  whom  so  much  gossip  had  been  rampant.  There 
he  lay,  the  man  who  had  broken  his  mother's  heart, 
caused  his  father  so  much  shame,  darkened  the  lives  of 
his  sisters  with  the  shadows  cast  by  his  misdeeds,  sent  his 
child  into  a  reformatory — there  he  lay !  What  a  lesson 
to  heedless  youth,  the  town  people  said,  what  an  example 
of  a  wasted  life ! 

There  were  some  who  came  to  the  house  of  mourning 
for  other  purposes.  Said  one  woman  frankly,  "  Of 
course  I'm  goin'  to  that  funeral!  It  wondered  me  long 
a'ready  how  Burkhart's  got  their  house  fixed  inside  and 
now  I  got  a  chance  once  to  get  in  it,  parlor  and  up-stairs 
and  all." 

"  Well,  I'm  not  going,"  said  her  neighbor.  "  I  don't  go 
to  funerals  unless  they're  so  near  I  got  to.  I  think  still 
it's  bad  enough  I  got  to  go  to  my  own." 

"Ach,"  came  the  startling  answer,  "  I  go  to  every  one  I 
can.  I  think  it  does  abody  good  to  feel  sad  like  at  fu- 
nerals. I  don't  often  miss  one." 

Sarah,  in  the  house  of  mourning,  heard  the  tramp  of 
the  curious  who  came  to  gape  at  the  dead  and  she  re- 
sented it  "  Even  in  death  they  despise  him,"  she  thought 
bitterly.  "  I  know  Mrs.  Roth  is  saying  she  is  thankful 
there  never  was  a  criminal  in  her  family !  " 

But  the  ordeal  of  a  small-town  funeral  did  not  end  at 


THE  PRODIGAL  225 

the  services  in  the  house.  There  was  the  public  service 
in  the  Mennonite  meeting  house  which  was  packed  to  the 
doors,  the  harrowing  singing  of  sorrowful  hymns,  the 
long  sermon,  and  the  march  of  the  people  to  the  front  of 
the  church  to  pass  by  the  casket  and  take  a  last  look  at  the 
remains.  Sarah  felt  that  human  endurance  was  taxed  to 
the  breaking  point  by  the  experience.  She  came  back  to 
the  house,  limp  and  exhausted.  But  even  then  there  was 
no  peace  for  her.  Kindly  disposed  relatives  from  out  of 
town,  people  she  had  never  seen,  had  come  to  do  their 
duty  and  see  Jeremiah  buried  and  they  lingered  for  a  day 
or  two,  turning  the  funeral  occasion  into  a  visit,  seizing 
the  unexpected  opportunity  to  make  a  round  of  visits 
among  the  relatives  in  and  near  Fair  view. 

Finally,  when  the  thing  was  all  over  and  the  house  once 
more  quiet,  she  faced  life,  changed  and  sobered  by  the 
experience.  Her  boasted  Irish  optimism  and  good  cheer 
seemed  held  in  subjection  by  sadness.  She  was  thankful 
to  get  back  to  work  in  the  store  and  try  to  find  partial 
forgetfulness  in  occupation. 

Aunt  Sybilla  decided  that  black  garments  were  the 
proper  thing  for  the  daughter  to  wear.  But  Sarah  dif- 
fered. 

"I  won't  wear  black  for  anybody!  It's  not  one  bit 
more  respectful  than  colors  and  makes  me  feel  more 
somber.  Goodness  knows  people  won't  feel  happier  look- 
ing at  me  in  black."  Her  long  acquaintance  and  close 
companionship  with  nature  on  Sunset  Mountain  had 
taught  her  to  view  sanely  and  reverently  the  mysteries  of 
life  and  death.  To  her  death  was  not  an  event  to  terror- 
ize the  heart  into  chaotic  darkness,  neither  was  it  an  occa- 
sion for  incessant  wails.  She  had  learned  by  analogy 
from  nature  the  glorious  truth  of  resurrection  and  her 


226        THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

faith  upheld  her  during  the  dark  hours  when  her  sorrow 
seemed  heavier  than  she  could  bear. 

But  there  were  times  when  her  loneliness,  the  grief  at 
the  death  of  her  father,  the  pathos  of  his  wasted  years, 
sent  her  into  weeping.  Such  a  time  came  to  her  several 
days  after  he  had  been  laid  to  rest  in  the  little  cemetery 
overlooking  Fairview.  Aunt  Sybilla  tried  to  keep  the  girl 
occupied  in  the  hope  that  the  depression  would  wear  off. 
She  had  sent  Sarah  to  the  orchard  for  cherries.  With  a 
tin  kettle  and  a  stout  hook  to  fasten  it  to  the  branch  the 
girl  climbed  up  into  the  tree  where  the  luscious  cherries 
were  red  ripe.  She  picked  them  dutifully,  their  dull  thud 
sounding  in  the  kettle  as  they  fell.  A  crotch  of  the  tree 
afforded  a  safe  resting-place  and  there  were  so  many 
cherries  she  could  pick  a  great  many  without  changing 
position. 

Suddenly  some  vagrant  memory  of  her  father's  boy- 
hood came  to  her  and  the  grief  she  had  pent  up  bravely 
burst  through  the  flood-gates.  She  leaned  her  head 
against  a  friendly  branch  and  cried. 

"  Sarah ! "  The  voice  of  the  rector  came  to  her 
through  the  sounds  of  her  own  weeping.  "What  are 
you  doing?  " 

"  I'm  picking  cherries,"  she  said,  her  face  still  hidden. 

"  You  are  doing  something  very  different  from  picking 
cherries,"  he  insisted.  "  Come  down.  Look  at  me." 

She  lifted  her  face  to  let  him  see.  "  There,  look ! " 
She  tried. to  smile.  "Oh,  it's  mean  in  you  to  make  me 
look  at  you.  Everybody  knows  that  no  person  is  beauti- 
ful when  they  cry.  That's  why  I  try  to  laugh  instead, 

and  generally  I  can  manage  it  but  sometimes "  Her 

lips  trembled. 

"Don't  you  do  it!"  he  said.     "Don't  do  it,"  he  re- 


THE  PRODIGAL  227 

peated  tenderly.  "  Better  come  down  and  talk  to  me,"  he 
suggested. 

She  climbed  down,  wondering  vaguely  why  she  always 
felt  a  desire  to  do  as  he  asked  her.  "  You  always  come 
when  I  cry,"  she  accused  him;  "  have  you  a  barometer  to 
tell  you  when  that  happens  ?  " 

"  Just  my — my  intuition,"  he  told  her. 

"  Oh !  "     It  was  half  a  query. 

"  Why  were  you  crying  this  time  ? "  he  asked  as  they 
stood  together  under  the  tree. 

"  Oh,  I  just  felt  like  it !  I've  got  a  sloppy  heart,  always 
running  over.  If  I'd  let  it  go  I'd  be  crying  fifty  times  a 
week,  but  I  twist  it  around  and  laugh  instead,  generally. 
But  I  had  to  cry  just  now.  I  read  once  that  crying  clears 
the  eyes  and  makes  them  more  glistening."  She  smiled 
and  he  forbore  to  question  her  further. 

"  I  came  over  to  tell  you  good  news,"  he  told  her. 

"  What  ?  "     She  was  eager. 

"  Your  class  in  Sunday  school  is  going  to  rent  a  cottage 
at  Mount  Gretna  in  August  and  spend  two  weeks  there. 
I  am  going  to  take  some  of  the  town  boys  over  at  the 
same  time  to  Roths'  cottage.  I  spoke  to  your  grandfa- 
ther about  it  and  he  thinks  the  change  in  the  mountains 
would  do  you  good.  He  is  anxious  to  have  you  get  away 
for  a  while.  You  have  certainly  won  his  heart.  I  told 
the  class  I'd  speak  about  it  to  you  for  you  missed  several 
Sundays  and  weren't  aware  of  their  plans.  The  girls 
said  they  hope  you  will  come  with  them." 

"  Um,  I'll  take  that  with  a  grain  of  salt !  Of  course 
they  told  you  they  are  dying  to  have  me  join  them  but  all 
the  time  they  were  praying  I  sprain  my  ankle  or  neck  or 
anything  to  keep  me  here!  To  them  I  am  still  that 
'  heretic,  rebel,  a  thing  to  flout.'  I  still  have  my  battle  to 


228    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

fight  before  I  get  that  immense  circle  drawn.  But  if 
grandpap  says  I  may  go  I'm  going." 

"  Good !  I  thought  you  would  not  be  intimidated  by  a 
few  snobs  who  do  not  understand  you.  It  may  be  an  op- 
portune time  to  have  them  become  really  acquainted  with 
you.  The  girls  are  going  to  love  you  when  they  know 
the  real  Sarah  Burkhart." 

She  could  not  speak  for  a  moment,  his  kindness 
touched  her.  "  Sometimes,"  she  said  after  a  little  silence, 
"  I  wish  I  didn't  have  quite  so  much  Irish  in  me,  for  it 
makes  you  so  you  can  be  dumped  to  the  pits  of  purgatory 
one  minute  and  shot  up  straight  to  the  heights  of  heaven 
the  next.  It  takes  my  breath  away." 

"Ah,  that  isn't  being  Irish,  that's  Youth,  wonderful, 
magical  Youth,  with  its  recuperative  powers  and  plastic- 
ity. Youth,  which  can  be  wildly  jubilant  one  minute  and 
dismally  unhappy  the  next.  Youth,  which  can  feel.  Dear 
girl,  only  as  we  carry  that  youthfulness  and  capacity  to 
feel  into  mature  years  do  we  live  radiant  lives.  Many  of 
us  live  sober,  fruitful  lives,  but  how  few  emulate  the 
Pattern  and  live  radiant  ones!  If  I  could  make  people 
see  that,  how  much  a  duty  joy  is,  I'd  feel  that  my  minis- 
try counted.  Be  thankful  you  have  that  joy  fulness  in 
full  measure." 

"  It  just  comes  natural  to  me  to  be  so,"  she  said,  laugh- 
ing her  infectious  sparkling  ripple. 

"  Favored  of  the  gods,"  he  suggested. 

"  Well,"  she  retorted  gaily,  "  don't  they  owe  me  some- 
thing for  setting  me  down  in  Red  Rose  Court?"  The 
next  instant  she  was  serious.  "  I  have  always  felt  happy 
inside  of  me,  that  is,  off  and  on,  as  they  say  in  Fairview. 
They  work  off  and  on,  have  headaches  off  and  on,  go  to 
church  off  and  on " 


THE  PRODIGAL  229 

He  laughed.     "  So  you  are  happy  off  and  on?  " 

"  Yes.  I've  always  been.  Even  in  Red  Rose  Court  I 
danced  and  skipped  when  the  hurdy-gurdy  played.  And 
when  I  went  to  the  mountain  there  was  so  much  to  be 
glad  about !  New  dresses  and  shoes,  after  having  had  to 
pick  them  out  of  the  ash  boxes  and  trash  cans ;  a  bathtub 
and  lots  of  hot  water  all  the  year  round;  a  real  doll  the 
teacher  gave  me;  good  meals;  molasses  for  my  bread 
every  day ;  work  to  do  to  win  the  praise  of  Miss  Hughes ; 
the  wonderful  out-of-doors  on  a  mountain  top — I  couldn't 
laugh  and  skip  enough  to  express  all  my  joy.  Then  the 
things  Miss  Hughes  taught  me !  She'd  recite  Riley  to  us 
until  I  knew  the  verses.  I  can  hear  her  saying  now,  '  It 
hain't  no  use  to  grumble  and  complane;  it's  jest  as  cheap 
and  easy  to  rejoice.'  And  then  she'd  always  add,  'And 
girls,  it's  a  lot  more  pleasant  for  the  people  who  have 
to  be  around  us.' " 

She  looked  away  from  him  then,  deep  in  retrospect, 
while  he  regarded  her  face,  expressive,  beautiful  in  its 
animation  and  eagerness.  He  wondered  how  he  had 
thought  her  rather  plain  when  she  came  to  Fairview. 
Why,  with  that  expression  she  was  magnificent !  He  ran 
over  her  list  of  things  about  which  she  had  been  grate- 
ful— a  bathtub,  molasses,  cheap  clothes, — then  he  re- 
membered pampered  children  he  had  met  who  were  never 
satisfied,  to  whom  expensive  toys  were  merely  boredom, 
spoiled  children  satiated  with  life  before  they  tasted  it, 
every  desire  gratified  long  before  maturity  — 

"And  since  I'm  here,"  her  voice  claimed  his  attention, 
"  I  have  so  much  to  make  me  happier  than  Stevenson's 
kings  that  I  ought  to  be  shaken  if  I  ever  complain.  I'm 
ashamed  of  myself  when  I  cry.  I  must  be  getting  to  be  a 
regular  old  granny,  like  the  woman  Aunt  Mary  tells  me 


230    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

about.  She  cries  at  funerals,  at  christenings,  at  weddings, 
entertainments,  public  celebrations — every  place  is  satu- 
rated with  her  tears.  But  when  you  are  nice  to  me  I 
want  to  cry  the  worst  way.  It  makes  me  feel  like  I  did 
the  day  I  discovered  I  had  a  conscience  and  how  it 
worked.  I'll  never  forget  that  dreadful  hurt  in  my 
throat !  You  make  me  feel  it  all  over  again  when  you  are 
nice  to  me."  She  looked  at  him  as  a  child  might  have 
done,  innocent  admiration  in  her  eyes. 

"  Why  shouldn't  I  be  nice  to  you  ?  Aren't  we  neighors 
and  haven't  you  told  me  many  things  about  Red  Rose 
Court  and  Sunset  Mountain,  things  which  enlightened 
me !  Aren't  we  friends  ? " 

"  /  hope  so." 

"I  know  so!" 

"  Then  I'll  finish  picking  my  cherries  since  we  have 
settled  that !  "  she  said,  a  bit  confused  by  his  direct  speak- 
ing. 

"  I'll  help  you." 

In  a  moment  they  were  up  in  the  same  tree  picking 
cherries  into  the  tin  pail.  Sarah  stole  glances  at  him 
from  time  to  time.  How  different  he  seemed  from  the 
man  who  read  the  prayers  in  St.  Paul's  or  walked  sol- 
emnly into  the  chapel  in  his  long  black  gown!  And  yet 
how  like  him!  She  felt  very  glad  to  know  he  was  her 
friend. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

MOUNT  GRETNA 

IN  the  beautiful  South  Mountains  of  Pennsylvania  lies 
the  famous  summer  resort,  Mount  Gretna.  Several  hun- 
dred cottages,  ranging  from  those  of  simplest  structure 
to  picturesque  bungalows,  are  scattered  under  the  tower- 
ing trees  of  the  mountains.  Vacationists  find  Mount 
Gretna  an  ideal  spot  of  sylvan  rest,  energetic  colonists 
delight  in  the  mountain  climbing  and  bathing  in  beautiful 
Lake  Conewago  which  lies  in  the  arm  of  the  tower- 
ing Governor  Dick  Mountain.  A  tract  of  many  acres  is 
owned  by  the  government  and  used  for  national  encamp- 
ment purposes,  which  adds  to  the  life  and  gaiety  of  the 
place. 

The  summer  arrivals  had  come  in  great  numbers  that 
August  when  Sarah  and  the  other  members  of  her  class, 
chaperoned  by  Mrs.  Roth,  arrived  in  Mount  Gretna. 
Sarah  knew  that  she  was  the  one  unwelcome  person  in 
the  party  but  some  power  seemed  to  tug  at  her  and  force 
her  to  come.  The  girls,  still  unacquainted  with  the  new 
member,  were  cool  in  their  manner,  but  she  steeled  her 
heart  and  allowed  the  snubs  to  glance  from  her  like 
arrows  from  armor.  The  girls  soon  found  that  Sarah 
was  immune  to  snubs,  entered  heartily  into  every  sport, 
did  her  share  of  the  work  in  the  cottage,  and  after  the 
manner  of  youth,  they  forgot  some  of  their  prejudice  and 
treated  her  more  kindly. 

Mrs.  Roth  considered  it  a  great  charity  to  chaperone 
3  crowd  of  which  Sarah  made  one.  She  still  thanked 


heaven  devoutly  that  her  family  escutcheon  was  un- 
stained. Of  necessity  she  swallowed  her  unfriendliness 
as  well  as  she  could  and  assumed  a  self-righteous  air. 
She  would  try  to  improve  the  daughter  of  Jeremiah 
Burkhart,  while  she  vowed  extreme  vigilance  that  the 
reformatory  girl  could  not  exert  any  evil  influence  upon 
the  dear  girls  who  had  been  reared  so  carefully.  Poor 
martyred  Mrs.  Roth  anticipated  a  trying  time  at  the 
mountain  resort. 

Fortunately  Sarah  gained  some  slight  prestige  because 
of  her  ability  to  cook.  Most  of  the  girls  were  accustomed 
to  help  with  the  housework.  One  or  two  frankly  stated 
they  knew  nothing  about  cooking  and  managed  to  shift 
their  burdens  upon  other  shoulders.  Sarah's  were  the 
shoulders  upon  which  most  of  the  shifting  was  done. 

"  You're  such  a  dear,"  they  told  her,  "  you  don't  mind 
sweeping  the  porch  while  I  run  down  for  the  mail.  I 
know  mother  will  send  me  a  note  to-day." 

"  Certainly  I'm  a  dear,  I  don't  mind,"  would  be  Sarah's 
answer  and  her  winsome  smile  disarmed  suspicion.  Be- 
hind their  backs  she  twisted  her  face  into  a  grimace  and 
whispered,  "  I'm  dead  easy  now,  but  I  have  an  axe  to 
grind.  Sarah  isn't  as  stupid  as  she  looks." 

But,  though  burdened  with  more  than  her  share  of  the 
tasks  about  the  cottage,  she  found  time  to  run  to  the  lake 
in  her  bathing  suit  and  swim  about  with  the  others. 
It  was  her  first  trial  in  the  water,  really  her  first  vaca- 
tion! To  the  other  girls  the  days  at  Mount  Gretna  were 
a  mere  lark  and  good  time,  to  Sarah  they  were  an  event. 

Several  mornings  after  arrival  in  the  woods  she  was 
sweeping  the  porch.  She  had  risen  early;  the  clamber- 
ing of  chipmunks  and  squirrels  upon  the  roof  of  the  cot- 
tage had  wakened  her  before  daylight.  She  had  set  the 


MOUNT  GRETNA  233 

cottage  in  order,  then  went  out  to  the  porch  and  stood 
drinking  in  the  fresh  ozone  of  the  mountains.  The 
beauty  of  the  morning  thrilled  her.  Birds  were  caroling 
in  the  great  trees  that  canopied  the  entire  colony  of  cot- 
tages. A  shower  during  the  night  had  drenched  the 
leaves  with  fragrance  and  the  pines  exuded  their  whole- 
some odor.  Jays  screamed  in  strident  voices  but  even 
their  discordant  sounds  seemed  so  much  a  part  of  the 
woods  that  Sarah  loved  them,  quarrelsome  blue  trouble- 
makers though  they  were. 

"  Race  you  sweeping  the  porch ! "  challenged  a  voice. 

She  looked  down  the  woodland  street  and  there,  several 
doors  below  by  a  rambling  cottage,  stood  the  Reverend 
James  Snavely,  broom  in  hand. 

"  Why,"  she  said  as  he  came  to  meet  her,  "  when  did 
you  come?  Mrs.  Roth  thought  you'd  be  here  to-day." 

"  We  came  in  late  last  night.  Had  a  chance  to  come 
up  in  a  car  and  the  boys  were  anxious  to  get  here  so  we 
came.  There  are  four  of  us,  Dan  Roth,  two  others  and 
myself." 

"  Going  to  do  your  own  cooking?  " 

"  Yes,  for  a  time.  The  boys  think  it  will  be  a  lark  but 
we'll  probably  end  by  doing  as  the  old  Indian  said,  '  I 
cook  myself,  I  eat  myself.'  " 

Sarah  laughed.  "If  it  gets  too  bad  drop  in  here  for  a 
meal.  Mrs.  Roth  won't  mind  so  long  as  her  darling  boy 
is  in  the  crowd." 

"  Thank  you.  We  may  have  to  take  advantage  of  your 
offer.  But  we'll  try  cooking  for  a  few  days  until  the 
boys  tire  of  it.  One  of  them  says  he  knows  how  to  cook 
and  we  are  going  to  make  him  prove  it." 

The  arrival  of  the  rector  and  the  boys  from  Fairview 
added  great  interest  to  the  stay  at  Mount  Gretna,  thought 


234    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

the  other  girls  under  Mrs.  Roth's  chaperonage.;  Of 
course  the  rector,  they  reasoned,  was  too  old  to  be  con- 
sidered a  real  companion.  His  thirty-odd  years  seemed 
well-nigh  ancient  compared  to  their  eighteen.  But  Dan 
and  the  younger  boys  were  lively  and  jolly  and  a  good 
time  was  anticipated. 

Dan  sought  out  Sarah  the  very  first  day.  The  smiles 
of  the  other  girls  were  passed  with  mere  recognition  and 
Sarah  singled  from  the  crowd  to  receive  the  signal  favor 
of  his  attentions,  greatly  to  the  dismay  of  his  mother. 
Later,  when  she  could  manage  a  private  talk  with  her 
son  she  called  him  to  sharp  account.  "  Dan,"  she  tried 
to  be  diplomatic,  "  I  can't  have  any  of  you  boys  paying 
special  attention  to  any  one  girl." 

"  Darn  it,  mother,"  he  retorted,  "  if  I  singled  out  the 
right  one,  Mary  Becker  for  instance,  you'd  never  say  a 
word.  I  tell  you  Sarah  has  the  others  skinned  a  mile! 
She's  a  peach !  " 

"  But  not  for  you  to  pick !  Remember  that !  She 
isn't  your  stripe  of  a  girl.  I'd  never  call  her  my  daughter. 
She  has  a  past  that  can't  be  lived  down.  Thank 
heaven " 

"  Oh,  mother,  cut  the  dramatics ! "  he  said  flippantly. 
"  Quit  thanking  heaven  in  public ;  it  isn't  done  these  days, 
you  know !  I'm  going  to  have  a  bad  case  on  Sarah  so 
you  might  as  well  make  the  best  of  it.  Suppose  I'll  get 
over  it  as  I  got  over  the  measles  without  any  after-ef- 
fects. Darn  her,  though,  she's  as  high  strung  as  a  real 
aristocrat ;  wonder  who  she  thinks  she  is ! " 

However,  Sarah,  greatly  to  Dan's  surprise,  received  his 
attentions  more  calmly  than  she  had  done  in  the  little 
town.  She  walked  with  Dan,  went  swimming  with  him, 
attended  the  movies  with  him,  occasionally  danced  with 


MOUNT  GRETNA  235 

him — shades  of  her  Mennonite  ancestors! — but  she  held 
him  just  where  she  wanted  him.  As  soon  as  he  waxed 
sentimental  she  grew  irresponsive  and  he  soon  divined 
that  the  only  way  to  gain  any  attention  from  her  was  to 
be  friendly  but  nothing  more. 

As  the  rector  watched  the  coupling  of  the  two  his 
heart  was  troubled.  Something  akin  to  dismay  came  to 
him.  What  did  a  boy  like  Dan  want  with  a  girl  like 
Sarah?  Why,  she  was  fathoms  too  deep  for  the  shallow 
youth !  Too  fine,  lovely — could  it  be  that  ulterior  motives 
prompted  the  girl  ?  Then  he  put  such  visionary  surmises 
down  as  unfair  to  her.  She  was  probably  amusing  her- 
self, after  the  manner  of  thoughtless  youth.  He  tried 
to  view  matters  from  that  angle  and  called  himself  a 
meddling,  jealous  creature  when  he  felt  little  pangs  as 
he  saw  Dan  and  Sarah  strolling  off  to  the  lake  or  bound 
for  maidenhair  ferns  or  wild  flowers.  What  did  it  mat- 
ter to  him?  Why  was  he  so  concerned  about  it?  Of 
course  he  had  found  the  little  neighbor  intensely  inter- 
esting and  different  from  the  general  run  of  girls  or 
women  he  knew,  but  he  never  analyzed  his  feelings  more 
minutely  than  that.  Then  once  in  the  quiet  of  the  woods 
as  he  stretched  prone  under  a  pine  tree  where  the  brown 
needles  made  a  cushion  fragrant  and  inviting,  he  studied 
over  the  matter.  What  was  his  feeling  for  the  girl  next 
door?  The  laughing,  crying  child- woman  whose  heart 
was  so  big  and  full  of  sympathy  that  it  constantly  had 
an  overflow.  Sarah,  from  whose  childish  lips  had  fallen 
oaths  and  rude  speech  that  no  other  girl  in  Fairview  had 
ever  heard;  Sarah,  whose  father  had  narrowly  escaped 
death  in  a  prison  cell;  Sarah,  against  whose  record  was 
chalked,  marked  with  indelible  strokes,  six  YEARS  IN  A 
REFORMATORY — what  a  girl  she  was!  How  keen  an  in- 


236    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

sight  she  had !  He  remembered  how  he  had  winced  un- 
der her  searching  gaze  and  the  declaration  that  he,  too, 
thought  her  a  "  heretic,  rebel,  a  thing  to  flout/'  certainly 
not  a  thing  to  love.  She  was  right;  he  had  thought  her 
as  one  needing  help,  aye,  reformation.  He  had  seen  in 
her  an  errant  child  unfortunate  in  so  many  ways,  the 
victim  of  environment,  and  he  had  offered  her  church  and 
Sunday  school  as  a  solution  of  her  troubles  when  what 
she  had  craved  most  was  companionship.  He  had  prayed 
for  her  soul  when  a  walk  through  the  country  lanes  and 
a  friendly  talk  on  life,  nature,  and  the  like,  would  have 
helped  her  infinitely  more.  What  did  her  influence  mean 
to  him?  What  was  the  import  of  the  power  she  was 
certainly  exerting  upon  him,  unconsciously  to  her- 
self, he  was  certain.  Was  he  beginning  to  care  for  her 
as  he  had  never  cared  for  any  woman  before  ?  Hitherto 
he  had  seen  many  women  he  admired  but  none  to  whom 
he  could  give  his  love.  None  of  them  had  ever  been  able 
to  grip  his  heart  strings  and  play  the  music  there  that 
Sarah's  presence  could.  What  was  he  thinking  of  ?  Cer- 
tainly he,  a  clergyman,  could  not  consider  marriage  with 
a  reformatory  girl !  It  was  out  of  the  question !  Yet  he 
despised  himself  for  the  thought.  Sane,  deliberate  think- 
ing showed  him  clearly  that  if  he  ever  married  it  would 
have  to  be  a  girl  of  impeccable  character,  whose  past 
would  admit  a  searchlight  of  investigation.  The  wife  of 
a  clergyman  could  not  hope  to  escape  microscopic  dis- 
sections of  her  past,  so  much  he  knew  of  the  ways  of  the 
world.  And  yet,  even  as  he  convinced  his  heart  that  his 
reasoning  was  correct,  there  came  to  him  the  strong,  ir- 
resistible truth  that  the  child  of  Red  Rose  Court  had 
come  unscathed  through  experiences  that  would  have 
submerged  and  contaminated  a  weaker  nature.  He  had 


MOUNT  GRETNA  237 

to  admit  that  each  new  experience  to  the  Irish-Dutch 
neighbor  had  but  enriched  and  broadened  her  vision,  ex- 
panded her  capacity  to  feel.  Never  would  a  creature  in 
need  appeal  to  her  in  vain.  The  whimpering  of  the  chil- 
dren of  pestilential  Red  Rose  Court  would  echo  in  the 
cry  of  every  other  child  she  ever  heard ;  the  remembrance 
of  the  shadows  sin  had  cast  into  her  life  would  set  her 
heart  throbbing  with  sympathy  for  all  degraded,  unhappy 
mortals.  Her  sorrows  had,  indeed,  brought  her  an 
"  eagle-sight  of  God." 

The  rector  recognized  the  truth  but  the  world-old 
demarcations  between  man-made  standards  of  right  and 
wrong  seemed  ineradicable.  In  the  eyes  of  the  world 
Sarah  Burkhart  was  not  suitable  for  the  wife  of  any  min- 
ister of  the  Gospel.  And  in  the  heart  of  the  Reverend 
James  Snavely  raged  the  ancient  battle  between  duty  and 
desire. 

The  cooking  experiment  in  the  bachelor  cottage  soon 
ran  the  experimenters  into  deep  water.  The  girls 
shrieked  with  laughter  one  of  the  first  days  when  the 
boys  recounted  their  experiences  in  the  kitchen.  They 
were  all  sitting  on  the  porch  of  the  girls'  house,  Mrs. 
Roth  very  much  in  evidence  as  befitted  a  faithful  watcher. 

"  Say,"  began  the  narrator  of  the  tale,  "  this  was  rice 
day  at  our  house." 

"  Rice  day!  What's  that?"  came  the  query  he  hoped 
for. 

"  I'll  tell  you !  It  was  my  turn  to  cook.  I  thought  I'd 
give  them  a  treat  for  dessert,  not  pie  from  the  boarding- 
house — any  simp  can  do  that!  I'd  cook  some  rice  and 
serve  it  with  milk,  sugar  and  bananas.  So  I  asked  all  the 
fellows  and  they  voted  for  it.  Well,  I  counted  four  of 
us  and  doubled  that  for  second  helpings  and  a  few  more 


238    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

in  case  any  asked  for  third,  then  I  measured  out  ten 
saucers  of  rice,  heaping  full,  no  skimping  when  I  cook ! 
I  put  it  on  to  boil.  Bless  me,  in  a  little  while  it  was  go- 
ing over  the  stove,  put  the  fire  out!  I  put  half  in  an- 
other kettle  and  lighted  another  burner  and  started  them 
off.  I  watched  them  and  right  then  died  the  old  saying 
that  a  watched  pot  never  boils.  They  boiled  and  boiled 
and  came  near  spilling  rice  over  the  stove  again.  So  I 
had  to  find  a  third  pot  and  divide  the  contents  of  the 
two,  and  when  the  operation  was  completed  we  had  three 
huge  mounds  of  rice.  It'll  be  rice  for  breakfast,  dinner 
and  supper  for  a  week.  How  was  I  to  know  the  thing 
swells  like  a  sponge  in  water ! " 

The  girls  laughed  at  the  story  and  promptly  called  the 
boy  Ricey.  So  sped  the  days  in  the  mountains,  care- 
free, filled  with  walks  and  swims  or  idle  resting  under 
the  trees.  To  Sarah  they  were  one  long  holiday.  The 
charm  of  her  personality  gradually  attracted  the  girls. 
Her  sense  of  humor,  quick  repartee,  big-hearted  kind- 
ness, won  for  her  first  admiration,  then  real  affection. 
With  the  frankness  of  youth  the  girls  refused  to  accept 
the  opinions  of  Mrs.  Roth  and  the  town  in  general  and 
took  into  their  hearts  the  child  of  a  convict.  "  I  don't 
care,"  they  told  each  other  confidentially,  "  she's  lots  of 
fun  and  I  like  her !  " 

Sarah  felt  the  breaking  of  the  barrier  between  them 
and  was  glad.  She  began  to  see  the  first  swath  of  that 
circle  she  had  planned  to  draw. 

Every  day  was  a  joy  day.  There  were  walks  to  the 
lake,  down  a  long  winding  path  through  the  heart  of  the 
dense  woods  that  edges  Lake  Conewago.  Sometimes 
there  were  longer  climbs  to  the  several  peaks  from  whose 
summits  a  panoramic  view  of  the  country  could  be  had.' 


MOUNT  GRETNA  239 

It  was  to  one  of  these  peaks  that  Sarah  and  Dan  came 
several  days  before  the  end  of  the  two  weeks'  stay  at 
Mount  Gretna. 

Another  girl  and  boy  had  started  with  them  for  the 
place  where  maidenhair  ferns  grow,  but  before  they 
reached  the  last  trail  the  others  decided  to  change  their 
destination  and  seek  high  moss  that  grew  along  a  stream 
and,  they  agreed,  when  the  two  parties  returned  to  the 
cottage  the  spoils  could  be  divided.  Sarah  demurred  but 
the  girl  laughed  and  said,  "  Oh,  what's  going  to  bite  you  ? 
Are  you  afraid  of  Dan  ?  " 

Thus  cornered  Sarah  could  do  no  less  than  agree  to  the 
changed  plan  and  she  and  Dan  continued  on  their  way  to 
the  rare  maidenhair  while  the  others  turned  aside  to  a 
lower  trail. 

It  was  a  perfect  day  in  the  woods.  The  grand  old  trees 
reared  their  tops  so  high  and  were  growing  so  close  to- 
gether that  when  Sarah  looked  upward  her  eyes  met  only 
a  tangle  of  green  boughs — oak,  maple,  pine,  interlaced 
until  it  was  difficult  to  distinguish  the  parent  trunk  of 
each  tree.  Hardy  sword  ferns  grew  in  profusion,  black- 
berry vines  and  elders,  laurel  bushes  and  Solomon's  seal 
made  a  thick  carpet  under  the  trees.  Along  a  sloping 
bank  away  from  the  narrow  trail  tramped  for  years 
through  the  woods,  the  dainty  maidenhair  fern  lifted  its 
delicate  parasols  of  green. 

Sarah  exclaimed  joyously  when  she  spied  the  first  one. 
She  ran  to  it,  knelt  in  the  moss  and  touched  the  fronds 
gently.  "  Oh,"  she  cried,  "  these  make  me  feel  home- 
sick for  Sunset  Mountain !  We  used  to  get  them  there, 
plant  them  in  moss  and  keep  them  all  winter.  That  was 
a  paradise  for  birds,  flowers  and  so  forth." 

"  But  not  for  people,"  said  the  boy  unsympathetically. 


240        THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB; 

"  I  should  think  you'd  want  to  forget  that  place  instead 
of  talking  about  it  all  the  time." 

"Why?"  she  challenged,  looking  up  at  him  with  a 
frown  on  her  face  that  had  so  lately  been  radiant. 

"  Oh,  well,  you  know  a  reformatory  isn't  exactly  a 
place  to  boast  of  as  a  former  residence,"  he  said  jauntily, 
smiling. 

"  No — I  suppose  you  are  like  your  mother — you  thank 
heaven  there  was  never  a  criminal  or  reformatory  inmate 
in  your  family !  " 

The  sarcasm  did  not  escape  the  young  man  but  he 
threw  back  his  head  and  laughed  loudly.  "  Really, 
girlie,"  he  said  gaily,  "  you  are  almost  handsome  when 
you're  angry." 

Sarah's  eyes  grew  dark.  She  ignored  the  bold  speech 
and  bent  more  closely  over  the  ferns. 

Dan  did  not  change  the  subject  so  readily.  He  turned 
to  where  the  girl  knelt  among  the  ferns  and  smiled  down 
at  her.  "  Dearie,  you're  some  girl !  I  told  mother  you 
have  the  others  skinned  a  mile." 

Sarah  rose  from  the  damp  earth  and  faced  him,  her 
face  scarlet  with  wrath,  her  lips  tense.  "  You  better  be 
careful  how  you  speak  to  me,  Dan  Roth!"  she  warned 
him.  But  he  was  deaf  to  her  words.  The  next  instant 
he  grabbed  her  and  though  she  struggled,  succeeded  in 
printing  a  kiss  upon  her  face.  With  a  mighty  wrench 
she  loosened  his  hold,  gave  him  a  hard  smack  on  the 
mouth,  and  darted  down  the  woods  away  from  him. 

"  Sarah ! "  the  boy  called  after  her ;  the  unexpected 
chastisement  nonplussed  him. 

"  Sarah !  "  He  looked  about  in  bewilderment — had  the 
earth  opened  and  swallowed  her?  She  was  nimble  and 
the  dense  growth  of  bushes  aided  her.  In  a  short  time 


MOUNT  GRETNA  241 

she  was  completely  out  of  sight  of  the  youth,  who  stood 
among  the  ferns,  occasionally  rubbing  a  hand  ruefully 
across  his  smarting  face. 

"  By  George !  The  little  fool !  She  can't  find  her  way 
back  to  the  cottage  if  she  goes  in  that  direction.  Sarah !  " 
But  the  woods  gave  back  the  empty  sound,  "  ah ! "  He 
called  again ;  the  "  ah "  fell  mockingly  upon  his  ears. 
"  Sarah !  "  He  started  in  pursuit.  "  Come  back !  I 
won't  touch  you  again.  You'll  never  find  the  way  back 
alone ! " 

If  the  girl  heard  his  frantic  appeals  she  gave  no  sign. 
She  had  struck  headlong  into  the  woods  and  kept  going 
circuitously — anywhere  to  get  away  from  the  man  who 
had  managed  to  instil  genuine  fear  into  her  heart. 

Dan  floundered  about  in  the  dense  undergrowth,  call- 
ing vainly  but  finding  no  trace  of  the  girl's  path.  If  he 
had  been  endowed  with  Indian  shrewdness  and  ability  to 
read  the  trail  by  trampled  weeds  left  in  her  wake  follow- 
ing her  might  have  been  comparatively  easy,  but  he  was 
an  ordinary  youth  with  little  knowledge  of  woodcraft  and 
in  his  shock  and  apprehension  he  had  stood  helplessly  by 
while  she  ran  far  enough  from  him  to  be  completely 
concealed  by  the  dense  growth  and  after  his  scattered 
wits  were  collected  he  had  no  means  of  determining  the 
direction  of  her  flight.  After  an  hour's  vain  search  along 
the  narrow  trail  he  confessed  himself  at  a  loss  to  find 
her  and  started  on  the  homeward  road  alone. 

"  Confound  her ! "  he  muttered,  "  there'll  be  a  grand 
fuss  if  I  get  in  ahead  of  her  or  she  doesn't  turn  up  soon ! 
Perhaps  she's  there  now  and  will  have  the  laugh  on  me 
for  hunting  her  when  she's  safe  at  the  cottage." 

But  when  Dan  came  to  the  girls'  cottage  he  found  as- 
sembled on  the  porch  all  except  Sarah. 


242    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

"  Why,  where's  Sarah  ?  "  called  the  girl  who  had  started 
with  them  on  the  walk.  "  Have  you  lost  her  or  thrown 
her  down  a  gulley  ?  " 

"  I — she  left  me  and  started  back  alone."  He  was 
thoroughly  confused. 

"  What !  "  shouted  several  of  the  girls.  "  You  let  her 
go  off  alone  in  those  mountains !  Are  you  crazy,  Dan 
Roth?" 

His  mother  came  to  his  rescue.  "  Oh,  she'll  get  back 
all  right!  It  simply  goes  to  show  what  a  wild  creature 
she  is.  The  idea  of  her  running  away  from  Dan  and 
placing  him  in  such  a  predicament !  But  what  else  can 
one  expect  from  such  a  girl?  Serves  her  right  if  she 
gets  a  good  scare.  But  she  can  easily  find  the  path  and 
keep  on  it  till  she  strikes  the  railroad,  then  she'll  know 
where  she  is.  There  is  no  need  to  worry.  She  will  be 
back  soon  enough." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mary  Becker  who  had  tramped  over  those 
mountains  and  knew  their  vastness,  "  that  would  be  very 
easy  if  there  were  only  one  trail,  but  I  happen  to  know 
there  are  dozens  of  wood-cutters'  trails  leading  deep  into 
the  woods,  miles  from  here,  some  of  them.  To  be  lost 
in  the  heart  of  that  hill  is  no  joke.  It's  a  shame!  What 
kind  of  an  escort  are  you,  Dan  Roth,  to  allow  a  girl  to 
do  such  a  thing !  " 

"  Ah,  she  didn't  ask  me,  just  got  funny  and  ran  off 
and  before  I  knew  what  she  was  up  to  she  was  gone  so 
I  couldn't  find  her.  She  was  lost  as  a  needle  in  a  hay- 
stack." 

"  Urn,"  the  girl  eyed  him  keenly.  "  What  made  her  do 
that  ? "  she  demanded.  "  She  would  not  have  done  it 
unless  she  had  some  good  reason." 

"  Bah !  "    Dan  turned  from  his  inquisitor.    "  She  makes 


MOUNT  GRETNA  243 

me  sick!  Let  her  be  lost!  What  is  she  at  any  rate — 
just  a  convict's  kid  and  a  reformatory  girl ! " 

"  Oh,  no,  you  aren't  fair  to  her ! "  said  Sarah's  cham- 
pion. "  Sarah  is  more  than  you  said  just  now!  She  is 
the  cleverest,  kindest,  most  original  and  entertaining  girl 
I  know !  We  have  been  mean  to  her,  so  mean  we  couldn't 
see  her  fine  qualities.  I  guess  we  were  prejudiced  by 
gossip,  most  of  us.  But  if  she  ever  comes  back  I'm 
going  to  try  to  win  her  friendship;  she's  worth  cultivat- 
ing. I  have  an  idea  we  could  all  learn  a  few  things  from 
Sarah  Burkhart." 

The  praise,  coming  from  one  of  Fairview's  socially 
elect,  augured  well  for  the  future  happiness  of  Sarah. 
But  the  praise  struck  terror  to  the  heart  of  Mrs.  Roth. 
The  words,  "  if  she  ever  comes  back,"  set  her  thinking. 

"  My  gracious,"  she  cried,  "  the  girl  might  really  get 
lost!  What  shall  we  do?"  She  lifted  her  eyes  to  the 
big  mountain  that  reared  its  head  above  Mount  Gretna 
and  trailed  away  into  dimness  remote.  To  be  lost  there 
was,  indeed,  no  joking  matter. 

"  Dan,"  she  cried,  "  whatever  made  you  let  her  do  such 
a  thing  ?  We  must  find  her !  I'll  tell  the  rector  and  you 
have  to  start  after  her." 

"  Go  ahead,"  said  the  boy  stubbornly.  "  I'm  not  in  it ! 
I  called  her  and  she  wouldn't  come  back." 

His  mother  did  not  answer  but  ran  down  to  the  cottage 
where  the  rector  was.  Her  story  was  soon  told.  The 
look  on  the  face  of  the  Reverend  Snavely  did  not  tend 
to  reassure  her.  The  man  sensed  something  more  than 
mere  caprice  in  the  flight  of  the  girl.  What  had  Dan 
done?  But  there  was  scanty  time  for  ruminating.  It 
was  already  late  in  the  afternoon.  In  several  hours  at 
most  dusk  would  envelop  the  mountains.  The  rector 


244    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

moved  quickly.  In  a  short  time  he  had  gathered  the 
boys,  Dan  making  an  unwilling  member  of  the  searching 
party,  though  he  could  not  meet  the  inquiring  eyes  of  the 
rector. 

"  Ah,"  he  grumbled,  "  all  this  fuss  and  while  we're 
off  she'll  come  strolling  to  the  cottage  and  laugh  at  us 
for  a  pack  of  fools." 

"  Would  you  like  to  spend  the  night  alone  in  the  hills  ?  " 
asked  the  man  so  quietly  that  Dan  flushed  and  said, 
"  Come  on,  I'm  ready." 

Prepared  with  lanterns  and  flash-lights  the  rescue 
party  started  off.  Doubtless  many  of  the  cottagers  won- 
dered at  the  strange  procession  but  they  were  not  en- 
lightened. Mrs.  Roth  persuaded  the  rector  to  keep  the 
matter  quiet  unless  it  became  imperative  to  call  upon 
others  for  assistance.  The  little  party  crossed  the  picnic 
grounds,  the  railroad,  then  struck  into  the  woods.  Up, 
up  led  the  trail  to  the  lair  of  the  maidenhair  ferns, 
through  aisles  of  sylvan  beauty.  Great  monarchs  of  the 
mountains  towered  over  them,  the  green  of  August 
springing  luxuriantly  covered  every  corner  with  loveli- 
ness. But  they  had  no  eyes  for  the  beauties  of  the  woods 
then.  Even  Dan  began  to  feel  the  loneliness  and  utter 
isolation  of  the  woodland  depths. 

When  they  reached  the  place  where  two  trails  branched 
away  from  the  main  one  they  had  followed  the  rector 
decided  te  split  the  party. 

"  It  would  be  best  to  go  several  ways.  Two  of  you 
follow  the  one  to  the  right  and  one  take  the  left-hand 
road  for  that  leads  to  the  lake  after  a  long  winding  and 
won't  be  so  lonely  for  one  to  go  alone.  I'll  follow  this 
main  trail  to  the  maidenhair  place." 

"  Aren't  you  afraid  ?  " 


MOUNT  GRETNA 

"  No.  I  have  a  gun  in  my  pocket.  In  case  you  find 
her  hello.  But  if  I  find  some  trace  of  her  and  think  I'm 
on  the  right  track  I'll  keep  on  till  dark  overtakes  me.  If 
I  find  her  I'll  fire  the  gun.  I  really  think,  though,  there's 
more  chance  of  your  finding  her  on  the  lower  trails  as 
she'd  naturally  go  down  hill  if  she  became  lost.  I  know 
the  lay  of  the  land  fairly  well  up  there  for  I've  tramped 
all  over  it.  I'm  hoping  some  of  us  will  find  her  before 
dusk.  Of  course  there  is  little  danger  from  any  wild 
beasts,  but  it's  creepy  to  be  lost  in  the  woods  at  night. 
Well,  boys,  go  on  till  you  think  dusk  is  coming  then  get 
back  to  the  cottage.  Good  luck !  " 

So  the  boys  followed  the  directions  of  the  rector  while 
he  plodded  up  the  steep  path  to  the  place  where  the  ferns 
grew.  He  paused  there  a  time,  noted  the  trampled  ferns 
and  broken  branches  of  interfering  shrubbery.  A  huckle- 
berry plant  flat  upon  the  ground  pointed  to  the  direction 
the  girl  had  taken  from  the  fern  bower.  But  the  trail 
was  hard  to  follow.  It  led  straight  through  the  densest 
portions  of  the  woods,  down  hill  over  a  sloping  portion 
whose  precipitous  descent  had  helped  the  girl  in  conceal- 
ment. 

"  That  boy  scared  her !  "  the  rector  exclaimed.  "  I'd 
like  to  know  what  sort  of  a  fool  he  made  of  himself !  " 

It  was,  indeed,  like  the  renowned  search  for  a  needle 
in  a  haystack.  Once  he  found  the  imprint  of  a  woman's 
shoe  in  the  soft  mold.  He  hailed  it  with  delight.  For  a 
stretch  he  was  able  to  follow  her  trail  by  the  footprints 
planted  into  the  dark  earth.  It  was  drawing  him  deeper 
into  the  woods.  He  wished  he  had  brought  the  others  up 
there  and  then  sent  them  into  other  directions,  for  he  was 
almost  certain  she  had  gone  into  the  woods  far  away 
from  the  trails  he  had  sent  them  to  follow.  Yet,  who 


246    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

knew  where  her  wanderings  would  lead  her!  Accord- 
ing to  the  evidence  before  the  rector  she  was  traveling 
farther  away  from  Mount  Gretna  every  step.  Once  he 
spied  something  white  and  stooped  to  pick  it  up.  It  was 
a  handkerchief  with  an  embroidered  S  in  one  corner. 
He  tucked  it  into  his  pocket  and  kept  on,  confident  he 
was  on  the  right  trail.  Yet  the  others  might  reach  her 
rather  than  he  for  he  knew  how  many  were  the  curves 
of  the  trails.  If  by  any  chance  she  had  turned  and  gone 
down  hill  the  boys  might  have  found  her  but  if  she  kept 
on  as  she  seemed  to  have  done  he  would  be  nearest  to 
her.  Frequently  he  called  loudly,  but  no  response  greeted 
him.  Dusk  began  to  settle  in  the  woods  and  still  he  kept 
on  going.  He  felt  sure  he  was  on  the  proper  trail,  though 
his  frequent  hellos  met  with  only  the  mournful  echo  of 
the  woods. 

"  Sarah !  "  he  called,  but  the  forest  swallowed  her  name. 

He  kept  on,  his  lantern  lighted  and  swung  low  to  search 
for  traces  of  her  going.  He  found  them  at  intervals, 
prints  of  her  shoes  in  the  loam  of  the  woods,  and  he 
blessed  the  spongy  nature  of  the  soil.  Broken,  trampled 
plants  greeted  him  at  other  places  and  he  clung  to  the 
hope  that  they  had  been  trampled  by  Sarah,  not  by  any 
woodland  creature.  Then  darkness  came  and  with  it  an 
uneasy  feeling  that  perhaps  he  had  missed  the  trail  after 
all.  He  could  see  no  more  prints  in  the  ground ;  it  sud- 
denly became  covered  thickly  with  leaves  and  low  shrub- 
bery. He  confessed  himself  entirely  uncertain  as  how  to 
go.  But  he  felt  he  could  not  go  back.  He  had  followed 
her  so  far  and  going  back  would  mean  losing  the  scent. 
He  resolved  to  spend  the  night  in  the  woods  and  wait  for 
daybreak  to  continue  the  search.  In  the  light  he  stood 
more  chance  to  discover  new  clews.  So  the  rector  se- 


MOUNT  GRETNA  247 

lected  a  sheltered  place  under  a  tree,  broke  off  branches 
of  pine  and  made  a  bed,  then  stretched  out  in  the  green 
nest,  pulled  other  branches  over  him.  The  night  had 
brought  chilliness  on  the  hills  and  a  blanket  would  not 
have  been  amiss.  The  man  closed  his  eyes  but  not  to 
sleep.  A  thousand  worries  plagued  him  like  devils — 
how  was  the  girl  faring,  what  shelter  had  she  from  the 
cold?  Had  the  others  found  her?  Was  she  scared  or 
hurt  or  still  tramping  hopelessly  farther  into  the  maze 
of  trees? 

Once  he  stopped  short  to  ask  his  heart  why  the  plight 
of  the  .girl  was  so  much  concern  to  him.  Was  it  mere 
humanitarianism  for  a  friend  in  distress,  was  it  wholly 
pity  and  a  desire  to  rescue  from  discomfort  that  urged 
him  to  spend  the  night  in  the  open  and  then  go  on  until 
he  should  find  the  lost  girl?  'But  the  riddle  of  his  heart 
received  no  solution  that  night.  When  the.  first  streaks 
of  dawn  invested  the  trees  with  a  gray  ghostliness  he 
jumped  from  his  bed,  shook  the  pine  needles  from  his 
clothes,  and  started  off  for  new  clews  to  lead  him  to  the 
girl. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  LOST  COTTAGE 

WHEN  Sarah  ran  from  the  kiss  of  Dan  Roth  she 
seemed  impelled  by  a  force  over  which  she  had  no  con- 
trol. Anywhere  to  get  away  from  that  look  in  his  eyes 
and  the  hot  sacrilege  of  his  touch  on  her  lips!  She 
struck  into  the  wildest  part  of  the  woods  expecting  that 
he  would  see  and  follow  her  and  subject  her  to  further 
humiliation.  She  glanced  back  in  terror  and  was  amazed 
to  find  that  the  kindly  bushes  had  hidden  her.  She  could 
not  see  Dan  and  reasoned  that  he  therefore  could  not  see 
her.  Then  she  crept  cautiously  on  her  hands  and  knees 
farther  away  from  him,  hiding  behind  giant  trunks,  curv- 
ing her  direction  a  trifle  so  that  she  kept  behind  the  place 
where  they  had  come  for  ferns.  She  heard  him  calling 
and  moved  from  the  sound  of  his  voice.  Fainter  and 
fainter  grew  his  calls  and  she  thanked  heaven  that  he  had 
taken  the  wrong  direction.  But  she  still  kept  on,  low  on 
the  ground,  which  accounted  for  the  trampled  bushes 
which  had  helped  the  rector.  After  what  seemed  ages 
to  her  she  raised  herself  and  stood  still.  All  was  quiet 
about  her.  She  was  in  the  heart  of  a  thick  woods,  no 
trail  or  path  in  sight,  only  an  unbroken  forest  that  stood 
majestically  all  around  her. 

"  Oh,"  she  breathed,  "  what  a  place !  But  how  am  I 
going  to  get  out  of  it?  " 

In  her  terror  she  had  taken  no  account  of  the  turns 
and  twists  she  had  made,  following  only  the  least  tangled 


THE  LOST  COTTAGE  249 

course  through  the  woods,  and  making  numerous  turns 
that  completely  shut  her  from  any  knowledge  of  the  di- 
rection in  which  Mount  Gretna  and  its  haven  cottage  lay. 
She  went  on  until  she  thought  it  must  be  just  ahead,  but 
no  path  came  in  sight.  It  was  dusk,  she  was  tired  and 
hungry — and  lost !  The  consciousness  of  the  fact  pierced 
her  mind.  Lost — she  repeated  the  word.  Her  face 
blanched  for  an  instant — lost  in  the  mountains — the 
words  were  pregnant  with  terror  and  nameless  fear. 
She  was  afraid  to  call  for  Dan.  Perhaps  he  was  still 
lurking  about,  perhaps  other  fugitives  were  in  those  hills 
— what  could  she  do!  She  stood  still  and  pondered,  a 
feeling  of  helplessness  possessing  her.  As  she  stood  so 
a  small  rabbit  bounded  out  of  the  bushes  close  to  her. 
.He  froze  at  sight  of  her,  then  turned  and  hopped  into  the 
woods  again,  his  white  cottontail  bobbing  like  a  ball. 

Sarah  laughed.  "  There,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  if  a 
-tiny  bunny  isn't  afraid  in  these  woods  I  shouldn't  be! 
I  guess  there  are  no  wolves  or  lions  or  their  like  here 
to  eat  me  up.  It's  getting  dark  and  I  can't  think  of  any- 
thing better  to  do  than  wait  until  the  lights  are  out  and 
then  climb  a  tree  and  look  for  Mount  Gretna.  If  I  were 
a  girl  scout  or  an  Indian  I'd  know  how  to  get  out  of 
this,  I  suppose.  But  I  don't  seem  able  to  remember  any- 
thing I  learned  about  the  woods  from  Miss  Hughes  ex- 
cept that  the  moss  grows  on  the  north  side  of  the  trees. 
But  heaven  only  knows  whether  Mount  Gretna  is  north 
or  some  other  direction  from  here.  I'm  the  dumbest 
thing  when  it  comes  to  direction.  I  lose  myself  as  easily 
as  a  baby.  But  I'm  not  lost.  I'm  like  the  Indian  who 
was  lost  but  said,  '  Indian  not  lost,  wigwam  lost ! '  I'm 
not  lost,  Mount  Gretna's  lost!  Poor  Mount  Gretna,  it's 
too  lovely  a  place  to  be  lost ! "  She  smiled.  "  But  I'll 


250    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

find  it  in  the  morning."  So,  with  the  indomitable  will  of 
her  ancestors,  a  strong  strain  both  paternally  and  ma- 
ternally, she  decided  to  make  the  best  of  the  situation 
and  refrain  from  hysteria.  "  I'm  lost — no,  I  mean  Mount 
Gretna's  lost — and  I  can't  find  it  right  away  so  I'll  have 
to  stay  where  I  am.  I'm  afraid  to  sleep  on  the  ground." 
The  old  saying  of  her  childhood  came  to  her — "  I  ain't 
afraid  of  nobody  nor  nothin'  but  snakes ! "  It  still  held 
good.  She  feared  crawly  things  as  much  as  in  those 
early  days.  "  I'll  have  to  look  around  for  a  tree  I  can 
climb  and  roost  there,  then  I  guess  I'll  be  a  rooster." 
She  laughed  at  her  feeble  wit,  making  the  experience  as 
much  of  a  lark  as  she  could. 

The  place  where  she  halted  was  closely  set  with  oaks 
looming  dark  in  the  swift-gathering  night.  About  the 
trunk  of  one  was  twined  a  wild  grape-vine  that  reached 
high  into  the  branches  and  had  sent  out  tendrils,  across 
to  other  trees,  forming  a  natural  swing  of  green.  Sarah 
tried  the  swing;  it  bore  her  weight  without  sagging 
greatly.  She  gripped  it  firmly  and  was  soon  in  the  lowest 
branch  of  the  oak,  with  the  vine  of  the  grape  forming  a 
green  back  for  her  comfort. 

"There,"  she  said  as  she  settled  herself  in  a  crotch, 
trying  to  find  the  softest  spot  in  the  tree  and  pulling  some 
of  the  luxuriant  vines  for  a  cushion,  then  twining  some 
about  her  neck  and  shoulders  to  keep  out  the  cold  wind 
that  rustled  through  the  woods.  Once  a  pair  of  black 
eyes  regarded  her  curiously  and  a  striped  chipmunk 
looked  out  from  behind  the  shelter  of  a  neighboring  tree 
as  though  to  ask  the  reason  of  such  intrusion  in  his  grape 
haunt.  But  Sarah  laughed  at  him  and  pulled  some  of  the 
wild  grapes  from  the  vine  and  ate  them. 

"  I'm  hungry !     I've  been  so  flabbergasted  I   forgot 


THE  LOST  COTTAGE  251 

about  it,  but  I  am  hungry!  If  I  can't  find  the  way  out 
in  the  morning  I'll  have  to  be  like  Elijah.  But  I  could 
eat  grapes.  I  wouldn't  starve.  There  are  grapes — and 
grapes — and — I  guess  I  would  grow  tired  of  a  diet  of 
just  grapes ! " 

The  sleepy  cheep  of  birds  was  all  she  heard  in  the  tree. 
By  and  by  that,  too,  was  hushed  and  silence  reigned  in 
the  forest.  When  the  stars  came  out  she  climbed  farther 
up;  perhaps  she  could  see  lights  and  find  her  bearings. 
But  though  she  mounted  branch  after  branch  she  could 
not  reach  the  top  of  the  oak  by  many  feet  and  all  she 
could  discern  was  more  trees  and  more  trees  until  her 
heart  sank. 

"  I'll  climb  back  nearer  the  ground  for  there  I  feel  less 
keenly  that  I  am  lost.  Up  here " — her  lips  trembled 
— "  I'll  just  have  to  stay  here  all  night.  Perhaps  I'm  a 
short  distance  from  the  cottage,  perhaps  miles." 

She  crept  back  to  her  grape-vine  once  more — so  soon 
it  had  become  a  blessed  refuge.  There  she  settled  as 
comfortably  as  possible  in  the  broad  crotch  and  waited 
for  dawn.  She  was  afraid  to  sleep ;  her  hold  on  the  tree 
was  none  too  solid.  With  sleep  might  come  a  tumble 
into  the  grass  and  perhaps  upon  a  sleeping  snake.  The 
very  thought  sent  shivers  up  and  down  her  back.  So 
she  sat  all  night  wide  awake,  nodding  at  times,  drawing 
her  thin  dress  closely  about  her  and  wishing  for  some 
magic  power  to  transform  the  grape  leaves  into  blankets. 
She  was  tired  and  hungry  and  cold  and  unhappy  and  all 
because  she  had  run  away  from  Dan  Roth  in  a  moment 
of  wild  fright.  Dan  Roth  was  the  fault  of  her  predica- 
ment— Dan,  the  son  of  the  woman  who  thanked  God  her 
family  had  no  black  sheep !  Sarah's  attitude  toward  that 
family  was  none  too  pleasant  during  that  night.  If  Dan 


252    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

had  been  within  reach  of  her  he  would  have  undoubtedly 
suffered  more  than  a  slap  upon  the  mouth.  But  Dan  was 
safe  in  his  cottage  while  she  clung  to  the  wild  grape-vine 
in  an  oak  tree. 

At  times  the  funny  side  of  the  situation  demanded  her 
attention  and  she  laughed.  "  I'm  up  a  tree,  for  sure," 
she  thought.  But  the  next  minute  she  would  shiver  and 
tremble  and  wish  all  sorts  of  bad  luck  upon  the  one  who 
was  responsible  for  her  discomfort. 

"  And  yet,"  she  confessed,  "  I  guess  I'm  getting  just 
what  I  deserve.  I  just  ran  around  with  Dan  and  was 
nice  to  him  because  his  mother  hates  me  so.  Serves  me 
right,  what  I  got !  " 

Never  was  the  dawn  welcomed  so  cordially  by  Sarah 
as  that  morning.  The  light  came  slowly  into  the  fastness 
of  the  forest,  but  it  came  none  the  less  surely.  First  a 
dull  gray  crept  into  the  woods,  then  the  light  filtered 
through  the  canopy  of  leaves  and  Sarah  could  see  the 
dim  outlines  of  the  bushes  under  the  trees.  With  the 
first  glimmer  of  light  the  birds  began  their  morning  songs. 
To  Sarah,  who  found  delight  in  the  feathered  friends, 
the  chorus  was  a  joy  long  to  be  remembered,  even  above 
the  terror  and  discomfort  of  the  night.  A  whistling  cat- 
bird started  the  song  and  was  quickly  followed  by  a 
medley  of  other  bird-voices  that  roused  the  curiosity  of 
the  listener  in  the  tree. 

"What  bird  is  that?  Oh,  that's  a  new  song!"  fell 
from  the  lips  of  the  girl.  "  Glory,  how  sweet !  " 

Dawn  in  the  forest  was  delightful,  she  thought,  and 
almost  made  up  for  the  night  spent  in  the  crotch  of  an 
oak.  Warblers  and  vireos  poured  forth  their  limpid  notes 
of  joy,  thrushes  added  their  sweetness  to  the  music,  a 
screaming  jay  forever  picking  a  quarrel  sounded  the  only 


THE  LOST  COTTAGE  253 

discordant  note  in  the  chorus,  tie  flew  close  to  Sarah's 
tree  and  flashed  his  blue  gorgeousness  about  with  seem- 
ing unconcern  of  her  presence. 

Underfoot  the  earth  seemed  to  waken  too  with  the 
light.  Squirrels  scampered  across  the  weeds,  a  big  brown 
butterfly  rose  from  a  flower  where  he  had  doubtless  spent 
the  night,  a  few  vagrant  bees  started  off  on  their  round 
of  daily  toil.  Sarah  climbed  from  the  tree  and  looked 
about  her.  Which  way  to  go  to  reach  the  cottage  ? 

She  picked  a  handful  of  wild  grapes  and  ate  them, 
thinking  how  monotonous  grape  diet  would  become  if 
indefinitely  resorted  to.  In  spite  of  her  uncomfortable 
position  in  the  tree  she  felt  ready  to  tramp  anew;  her 
heart  beat  with  fresh  courage.  Dawn  brought  to  her 
some  of  its  magic,  invigorating  power.  Of  course  she 
could  not  be  many  miles  from  Mount  Gretna!  The 
mountain  was  not  so  huge  that  she  could  not  find  an 
outlet  soon! 

"  I'll  just  keep  on  going  and  trust  to  luck,"  she  thought 
as  she  stood  ready  to  resume  her  search  for  the  home- 
ward trail.  She  reasoned  that  if  the  road  she  had  taken 
the  previous  night  had  been  the  right  one  she  would  have 
reached  familiar  places,  so  she  might  as  well  start  out  in 
a  different  direction.  She  had  passed  the  mammoth  oak 
the  previous  night — now  which  way?  Then  she  remem- 
bered one  of  the  tricks  of  Red  Rose  Court  used  by  the 
urchins  to  find  lost  marbles  and  so  forth — she  solemnly 
opened  her  left  hand  and  spat  into  it,  then  clapped  into 
it  the  forefinger  of  the  right  hand.  It  was  an  unfailing 
guide,  she  had  thought  in  those  Red  Rose  Court  days, 
and  now,  though  grown  above  superstition,  she  resorted 
to  the  old  method  and  gravely  set  out  in  the  direction 
indicated  by  the  test. 


254    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

It  was  still  early  morn,  the  daylight  not  yet  full,  but  so 
eager  was  she  to  find  the  way  back  that  she  set  out  gladly 
in  the  dimness.  What  had  they  thought  at  the  cottage? 
Had  they  feared  for  her  ?  But,  pshaw !  There  were  none 
to  actually  worry  about  her.  None  in  that  little  group 
cared  whether  she  were  lost  or  not.  They  might  feel 
curious  about  her,  worried  for  what  the  world  would 
say  if  any  harm  befell  her  while  with  them,  but  real 
worry  for  her  own  sake — that  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion! Sarah  laughed  to  keep  from  crying  as  she  went 
along. 

"Why  did  this  have  to  happen?"  she  asked  herself. 
"  Just  when  Mary  Becker  and  some  of  the  girls  were 
beginning  to  act  as  though  they  liked  me  I  had  to  go 
spoil  the  whole  thing.  Of  course  they  are  so  proper  they 
are  shocked  terribly  at  a  girl  who  runs  from  a  boy  and 
gets  lost  and  spends  the  night  alone  in  the  woods!  I 
am  marking  up  a  list  of  black  crosses  after  my  name ! " 

Then  she  thought  of  Dan.  What  had  he  told  them? 
Had  he  invented  some  ingenious  tale?  Oh,  Dan  would 
look  out  for  Dan  every  time !  She  had  no  fear  that  he 
would  tell  the  reason  of  her  flight. 

As  she  tramped  through  the  underbrush,  her  eyes  keen 
for  snakes  in  the  tangled  weeds,  a  faint  "  Hello ! "  came 
to  her.  Her  heart  seemed  to  suspend  action  for  a  mo- 
ment, a  panic  of  fear  seized  her.  She  crouched  in  the 
grass  behind  a  clump  of  laurel  whose  glossy  leaves  hid 
her  effectually.  All  thought  of  snakes  left  her;  a  lurking 
copperhead  might  have  struck  its  fangs  deeply  in  a  death 
blow  as  she  knelt  there,  her  ears  strained  for  the  sound 
of  that  voice. 

"  Hello !  "    It  came  nearer.    Was  that  Dan's  voice  ? 

"  Hello !    Sarah !  "    The  voice  was  not  Dan's !    A  re- 


THE  LOST  COTTAGE  255 

laxation  stole  over  the  girl  as  she  caught  through  the 
bushes  a  glimpse  of  the  rector.  She  rose  and  answered, 
then  stood  by  the  laurel  and  swayed  unsteadily. 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  it's  you ! "  she  said  as  he  ran  down 
the  woodland  aisle  to  her. 

"  Are  you  all  right  ? "  His  words  came  in  breathless 
anxiety. 

She  nodded  her  head;  words  seemed  to  be  difficult  to 
utter. 

"  Perfectly  all  right  ?  "  he  insisted. 

Quickly  she  regained  her  composure.  " '  I'm  clothed 
and  in  my  right  mind,' "  she  quoted. 

The  man  laughed  in  relief.  The  search  was  ended,  he 
had  found  Sarah!  "How,  why  did  it  happen?"  he 
asked  as  they  started  off  through  the  woods. 

"  Am  I  far  from  Mount  Gretna  ?  "  she  evaded. 

"  Just  about  two  miles  and  in  the  heart  of  the  woods. 
How  did  it  happen  ?  " 

"  Didn't  Dan  tell  you — what  did  Dan  tell  you  ?  " 

"  He  said  you  ran  away  from  him  and  got  lost." 

"  Well,  I  guess  Dan  knows  as  well  as  I  do,  so  why 
ask  me  the  same  thing  ?  "  she  answered,  which  was,  he 
felt,  a  polite  way  to  tell  him  that  further  probing  would 
be  useless. 

"  So  long  as  you're  all  right "  the  man  began,  then 

he  looked  away  quickly.  He  was  struggling  hard  not 
to  be  drawn  into  that  circle  she  and  Love  were  drawing! 
"  Where  did  you  spend  the  night  ?  "  he  asked.  "  At  the 
birds'  inn?" 

"  No,  the  chipmunks',"  she  replied.  Then  she  told  him 
of  her  supper  of  wild  grapes  and  breakfast  of  wild 
grapes,  her  rest  in  the  tree,  and  she  launched  into  a 
description  of  the  early  chorus  of  the  birds  until  the  man 


256    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

felt  relieved  in  knowing  that  the  experience  had  not  been 
so  harrowing  for  her  as  one  might  imagine. 

"If  some  one  had  been  with  me  it  would  have  been 
the  greatest  treat  of  my  life !  "  she  ended.  "  To  hear  the 
birds  usher  in  the  dawn  in  the  forest  is  wonderful.  To 
be  out  under  the  stars  all  night  is  delightful ! " 

"  Yes.  I  have  enjoyed  those  things.  I  slept  many 
nights  under  the  open  sky  one  summer  in  Colorado.  It's 
great — great!  You'd  enjoy  the  mountains  of  the  west 
where  we  carry  blankets  and  food  and  climb  miles  and 
miles  to  the  summit  and  see  the  sunset,  then  roll  up  in 
the  blanket  and  sleep  under  the  stars  until  sunrise." 

"Oh,  I  should  enjoy  that!  I  hope  I'll  get  to  see  it 
some  day." 

They  went  on  silently  a  while  then  began  to  talk;  she 
thanking  him  for  the  rescue,  he  trying  to  make  light  of 
it,  and  both  at  length  turning  to  nature's  boundless,  in- 
teresting subjects  for  relief  from  the  strange  embarrass- 
ment that  had  foolishly  touched  them. 

"  I  saw  a  tree  up  there  blown  by  the  storm,"  she  told 
him.  "  A  big,  green  tree  with  thick  trunk  like  the  other 
trees  but  when  it  was  wrecked  you  could  see  that  where 
its  heart  should  have  been  there  was  nothing  but  a  big 
vacant  hollow." 

"  Yes "  he  drew  the  word  out  in  that  drawling, 

inquiring  way  he  had.  Sarah  flushed.  What  had  made 
her  say  that?  As  if  she  were  trying  to  imply  that  he  had 
no  heart — oh,  life  was  a  complicated  thing ! 

She  was  glad  when  they  reached  a  little  mountain 
brook  and  her  perplexities  of  mind  could  be  forgotten 
while  they  talked  of  the  clear  waters  and  the  sands  show- 
ing through  the  transparency. 

Sarah  sank  to  her  knees,  dipped  her  hand  in  the  cold 


"I  WON'T  PRESS  MINE,"  SHE  SAID  GAILY 


THE  LOST  COTTAGE  257 

water  and  drank  from  her  cupped  palm.  He  stood  by 
regarding  the  picture.  Like  a  Narcissus  bending  over 
the  stream,  he  likened  her. 

"Oh,"  she  startled  him  with  her  cry,  "look!"  She 
pointed  down  stream  to  where  a  few  sprigs  of  flaming 
cardinal  flowers  stood  like  soldiers  among  the  reeds  and 
grasses.  Darting  through  the  weeds  she  plucked  two 
branches  of  the  rare  crimson  blossoms.  "  One  for  each 
of  us,"  she  said,  smiling,  as  she  handed  it  to  him.  "  This 
says,  '  Thank  you,  Reverend  Snavely,  for  what  you  did 
for  me.' " 

"Thank  you!"  He  drew  from  his  pocket  a  small 
note-book  and  laid  the  scarlet  flowers  between  the  pages 
as  if  to  press  them. 

"  I  won't  press  mine,"  she  said  gaily.  Then  she  tucked 
the  red  flowers  in  her  hair  where  they  made  a  vivid 
streak  of  color  against  the  black  of  her  locks. 

All  the  rest  of  the  way  to  the  old  trail  the  girl  was 
laughing  and  merry.  It  seemed  to  the  man  beside  her 
that  some  brightness  of  the  very  morning  itself  had  been 
caught  by  her  and  rang  out  in  her  infectious  laugh.  She 
sobered  as  they  entered  the  grounds  where  the  cottages 
stood. 

"  I  forget,"  she  confessed,  "  that  not  everybody  in  this 
place  has  been  out  all  night !  It  behooves  me  to  be  sober 
and  dignified.  I  dare  say  I  should  assume  a  doleful  ex- 
pression and  look  at  you  with  that  '  Fond-hero-you 
saved-my-life  '  expression !  " 

She  checked  her  tongue  as  they  passed  a  cottage  where 
an  early  riser  was  sweeping  the  porch.  Doubtless  the 
two  young  people  were  thought  of  as  lovers  strolling  out 
to  escape  the  maddening  crowd.  A  warm  smile  followed 
them  as  they  passed. 


258    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

Mary  Becker,  the  girl  who  had  championed  Sarah  the 
previous  day,  was  sweeping  the  porch  when  Sarah  and 
the  rector  came  in  sight.  As  Sarah  called,  "  Oo-oo ! " 
Mary  turned.  The  next  moment  her  broom  was  thrown 
aside  and  her  arms  twined  about  the  neck  of  the  lost  girl. 

"  Sarah,  I'm  glad  to  see  you  safely  back !  We  thought 
you  were  lost !  " 

"  Why "  the  demonstration  was  surprising  to  the 

girl  who  had  received  so  little  in  that  line  during  her 
eighteen  years.  "  I  was  lost  but  Reverend  Snavely  found 
me." 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad !  "  Tears  sprang  to  the  eyes  of  the 
girl. 

"  Why "  Sarah  looked  at  her,  amazed.  "  I  never 

thought  any  one  would  care  if  I  were  lost,  not  really 
care." 

"  But  I  do.  I  care  very  much,  Sarah.  You're  the 
dearest  girl  I  know  and  I  don't  want  to  lose  you  just 
when  I  come  to  my  senses  enough  to  appreciate  you." 

"  Why,  Mary  Becker,  it's  worth  living  in  the  woods, 
lost,  a  whole  week  to  hear  you  say  that !  I'd  live  on  wild 
grapes  for  more  than  one  day  to  hear  you  tell  me  that  I 
really  have  a  friend." 

"  Listen  to  her,"  said  Mary  to  the  rector ;  "  wouldn't 
you  know  she's  part  Irish  by  the  blarney  of  her  ?  "  She 
linked  her  arm  affectionately  in  Sarah's.  "  Mrs.  Roth 
will  be  so  relieved  to  know  you  are  back.  When  Dan 
and  the  boys  got  back  last  night  without  you  she  almost 
had  hysterics.  We  had  a  hard  time  keeping  her  from 
sounding  a  general  alarm  and  getting  out  the  whole 
colony  to  hunt  for  the  lost  girl.  But  so  long  as  Reverend 
Snavely  did  not  come  in  and  report  failure  we  thought 
it  best  to  wait  for  morning.  I  couldn't  sleep  for  won- 


THE  LOST  COTTAGE  259 

dering  where  you  were.  So  I  got  up  early  and  came  out 
to  sweep  the  porch.  I  tell  you  there's  nothing  like  stiff 
sweeping  and  making  the  dust  fly  if  you're  worried  or 
cross,  even  if  it  isn't  hygienic." 

They  laughed  and  a  little  later  the  rector  went  to  his 
own  cottage  and  the  girls  entered  theirs. 

"  She's  here ! "  called  Mary  up  the  stairs. 

Soon  Mrs.  Roth  and  the  girls  ran  down  in  negligee,  all 
eager  to  hear  an  account  of  the  night  in  the  woods. 

When  Sarah  had  finished  her  simple  tale,  in  which  she 
had  not  divulged  the  cause  of  her  flight  from  Dan,  Mrs. 
Roth  looked  skeptically  at  her.  "  So  you  slept  in  a  tree 
all  night  and  Reverend  Snavely  was  in  the  woods  all 
night  too,  you  say — um,  a  very  thrilling  adventure,"  she 
said  smugly. 

Sarah  was  tempted  to  mete  to  her  the  same  chastise- 
ment Dan  had  received  at  her  hands.  But  the  girl  merely 
looked  her  squarely  in  the  eyes  and  repeated,  "  Yes,  we 
were  within  less  than  half  a  mile  of  each  other.  If  I 
had  known  that  I  should  have  enjoyed  the  stars  more." 

The  girl's  calm,  steady  gaze  should  have  warned  the 
woman  but  she  went  on  heedlessly.  "  Well,  all  I  can 
say  is  I  hope  it  doesn't  get  out  in  Fairview  that  you  two 
were  out  in  the  woods  all  night!  It  would  spoil  the 
rector's  reputation.  Of  course,  if  you  were  any  other 
girl,  like  Mary  or  one  of  the  others,  but  with  your " 

"  Mrs.  Roth !  "  cried  Mary,  hot  indignation  in  her  voice, 
"  how  dare  you  speak  to  Sarah  like  that !  She  is  good 
as  any  of  us,  better  than  most  of  us ! " 

"  Thank  you,  Mary,"  said  Sarah,  "  but  don't  waste 
time  trying  to  convince  Mrs.  Roth  that  I'm  all  wool  and 
a  yard  wide.  You  know  the  old  saying  about  a  man 
convinced  against  his  will.  But,  Mrs.  Roth,"  she  faced 


260    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

the  woman  and  her  eyes  gleamed  dark,  "  I  want  to  tell 
you  that  you  better  not  try  to  spoil  the  good  name  of 
Reverend  Snavely  by  linking  it  with  mine  and  a  night  in 
the  woods!  It  doesn't  matter  for  me — I'd  presumably 
be  *  never  the  worse  for  a  spot  or  two  on  my  speckled 
hide '  but  don't  you  besmirch  the  name  of  that  man !  If 
you  gossip  about  it  in  Fairview  I — well,  I'll  tell  whole 
Fairview  why  I  ran  away  from  Dan ! "  And  with  that 
to  ponder  she  left  Mrs.  Roth  and  went  up-stairs  to  wash 
and  to  comb  her  hair,  rather  disreputable  from  its  contact 
with  the  grape-vines. 

Later  in  the  morning  Dan  came  strolling  to  the  girls' 
cottage.  He  tried  to  look  innocent  and  casually  con- 
cerned. 

"  Ho,  Sarah,"  he  greeted  her  as  she  sat  in  the  swing 
beside  Mary,  "  I  see  you  got  back.  Were  you  really 
lost?" 

"  No,"  disclaimed  the  girl.  "  I  wasn't  lost,  Mount 
Gretna  was  lost." 

That  was  too  much  for  the  youth  to  fathom,  but  he 
breathed  more  easily — Sarah  wasn't  going  to  tell  after 
all.  She  was  rather  a  good  sport  even  if  she  was  squeam- 
ish about  a  little  thing  like  a  stolen  kiss. 

But  Dan  found  that  even  if  the  girl  kept  silent  about 
the  adventure  in  the  woods  she  had  no  further  use  for 
him.  He  could  never  manage,  contrive  as  he  would,  to 
have  one  minute  alone  with  her.  Hang  it,  how  was  a 
fellow  to  apologize  when  she  built  a  wall  about  herself! 
Sarah  had  no  wish  to  hear  any  apology,  all  she  desired 
was  to  have  Dan  leave  her  alone. 

The  last  days  at  Mount  Gretna  were  uneventful.  The 
last  one  was  occupied  with  packing  in  which  Sarah  en- 
tered with  good  will.  It  was  a  blessing  to  have  work  to 


THE  LOST  COTTAGE  261 

do  when  her  heart  ached,  for  the  experience  with  Dan 
had  left  its  mark  upon  her.  Her  faith  in  human  nature 
was  a  bit  shaken ;  she  felt  humiliated  and  ashamed  of  her- 
self for  affording  an  opportunity  for  the  boy's  insult. 
She  would  be  more  wary,  less  gullible.  Never  again 
would  she  trust  a  man  of  Dan's  calibre,  she  told  herself. 
Now  the  rector,  he  was  different!  How  utterly  gentle- 
manly he  had  treated  her  as  they  had  walked  through 
the  silent  woods  to  safety. 

On  the  whole  the  vacation  at  Mount  Gretna  was  one 
long  to  be  remembered  by  the  girl  whose  first  pleasure 
trip  it  was.  There  she  had  gained  the  confidence  of  the 
girls,  secured  a  warm  friend  in  Mary  Becker,  read  an- 
other page  of  weak  human  nature  uncurbed  by  the  su- 
periority of  spirit,  learned  to  know  the  rector  better  and 
appreciate  his  fine  qualities  anew — as  she  looked  at  the 
cottage  for  the  last  time  she  felt  that  she  had  learned 
many  things  there. 

Grandfather  Burkhart  greeted  her  with  warm  welcome. 

"  Hello,  Sarah,  so  you  got  back  once ! "  he  called  to 
her  before  she  had  entered  the  big  house  in  Fairview. 
"  Well,  I'm  glad !  It  was  kinda  lonesome  here  this  while 
past.  I  said  to  Sybilla  yesterday  that  it's  funny  how 
soon  we  get  used  to  something  and  don't  want  to  part 
with  it.  Here  you  been  with  us  just  since  April  and 
before  that  the  place  was  still  like  a  church  and  now 
since  you  come  it's  lively  and  when  you  go  off  for  a  few 
weeks  we  miss  you." 

"  Oh,  grandpap,  did  you  miss  me  ?  " 

"Miss  you?    Yes." 

"  Like  you'd  miss  a  boil  on  the  neck  after  it  went — 
like  that  ?  "  she  asked  laughingly. 

He  laughed.     Laughs  were  rare  in  his  life.     Sarah 


262    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

joined  in  his  deep,  throaty  chuckle  and  even  Sybilla 
smiled  at  the  girl's  words. 

"  No,  Sarah,"  he  told  her,  "  we  missed  you  like  we 
miss  the  robins  when  they  go  away  for  the  winter,  didn't 
we,  Sybilla,  Mary  ?  " 

Sybilla  nodded  and  Mary  wiped  her  eyes  on  her  apron 
before  she  could  speak.  "  Laws,  Sarah,  it  was  like  a 
cemetery  round  here.  I  was  for  borrowing  Mrs.  Felker's 
polly,  only  they  say  it  swears  so  ugly  still." 

Sarah  laughed  and  her  eyes  shone.  She  was  missed 
then!  Oh,  her  circle  was  closing  up!  The  girls  had 
been  drawn  into  it,  grandpap  and  Aunt  Mary  were  in- 
side, and  Aunt  Sybilla  might  be  near  enough  to  get 
hauled  in  at  a  moment's  notice. 

"  Love  and  I  had  the  wit  to  win 
We  drew  a  circle  that  took  him  in." 

She  loved  them  so  much  they  had  to  love  her ! 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A  DISCOVERY 

WHEN  Sarah  returned  from  her  vacation  at  Mount 
Gretna  she  found  her  grandfather  had  decided  to  turn 
many  of  his  private  affairs  of  the  office  over  to  her. 
He  came  to  depend  upon  her  more  and  more,  greatly  to 
the  chagrin  of  Dan  Roth  who  had  longed  for  a  greater 
interest  in  the  business  at  some  future  day.  There  was 
no  male  heir  to  the  Burkhart  family,  he  reasoned,  and 
some  day  the  old  man  would  want  to  shift  the  burden. 
Then  if  a  capable  young  man  happened  to  be  employed 
in  the  office  there  might  be  a  chance  of  advancement. 
But  the  coming  of  Sarah  had  changed  some  of  the  plans 
of  old  Jeremiah  Burkhart.  Sarah  might  marry  some  day 
and  her  husband  take  over  the  hardware  business,  so  it 
would  be  well  for  her  to  become  acquainted  with  some 
of  the  routine  of  the  office. 

Since  the  death  of  the  girl's  father  the  old  man  was 
devoted  to  Sarah.  The  dark-haired,  gray-eyed  girl  could 
have  twisted  him  about  her  finger  like  a  supple  string. 
Of  course  she  was  a  Burkhart  but  he  had  to  confess  there 
was  strong  evidence  of  her  mother's  blood  in  her  per- 
sonality. And  that  mother  had  been  an  actress  and 
dancer.  Old  Jeremiah  could  not  reconcile  the  old  knowl- 
edge with  new  opinions.  Some  of  the  things  about  which 
he  had  been  so  sure  all  his  life  were  beginning  to  be  hazy 
with  doubts.  Was  it  possible  that  a  person  could  dance, 
follow  the  vain  things  of  the  world,  and  yet  be  endowed 


264        THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB. 

with  so  many  sterling  qualities  that  the  child  born  to 
her  would  be  like  Sarah  ?  Were  not  all  dancers  followers 
of  Satan  ?  He  had  believed  they  were.  He  remembered 
some  of  the  things  his  son  had  revealed  to  him  during 
those  intimate  soul- communing  days  before  death  ended 
the  revelations.  Jeremiah  junior  had  told  of  the  Irish 
actress  wife,  her  gentleness,  kindness,  goodness  and 
staunch  devotion  to  him.  Surely,  Sarah  bore  evidence 
of  noble  qualities  that  the  weak-willed  father  could  not 
have  transmitted  to  her.  Old  Jeremiah  was  perplexed  as 
he  tried  to  puzzle  out  the  world-old  riddle.  He  felt  satis- 
fied that  his  faith  was  sufficient  unto  him,  that  the  plain, 
severe  ways  of  the  Mennonites  were  wholesome  and 
worthy  of  emulation,  but  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  he 
wondered  whether  the  conduct  of  persons  outside  the 
sect  might  be  wholly  commendable.  The  man  who  had 
been  hemmed  in  by  one  narrow  horizon  was  looking  be- 
yond it  and  seeing  a  world  of  good  outside  the  lines  he 
had  drawn.  Had  he  been  narrow  and  selfish?  Certainly 
he  could  never  indulge  in  any  worldly  pleasures,  but  was 
that  sufficient  reason  for  marking  them  sins  ?  Was  there 
good  in  everybody  and  wickedness  in  the  most  pious? 
He,  who  had  prided  himself  for  years  upon  his  square 
dealing  with  his  fellow  men,  had  been  unfair  to  his  own 
son.  He  who  had  been  unimpeachable  in  the  matter  of 
outward  observances  of  his  religion  had  failed  to  practice 
charity  and  mercy.  The  spirit  of  catholicity  stirred  in 
him.  What  a  self-satisfied  old  sinner  he  had  been  when 
he  deemed  himself  so  righteous  as  to  be  qualified  to 
arbitrate  the  destiny  of  his  son !  Now,  since  that  girl  of 
the  slums  and  reformatory  had  come  to  him  and  taught 
him  the  meaning  of  the  word  forgive,  along  with  in- 
numerable other  valuable  lessons,  he  could  discern  good 


A  DISCOVERY  265 

in  the  most  wretched  offenders  against  all  laws  of  man 
and  God. 

It  reminded  him  of  the  story  Mary  once  told  about  a 
town  character,  an  old  woman  who  went  to  every  funeral 
in  and  near  Fairview  and  always  said  something  to  the 
credit  of  the  deceased.  One  day  a  miserable  wretch 
died,  so  miserable  that  none  could  think  of  any  good 
quality  the  optimistic  old  lady  could  employ  as  a  last 
eulogy.  Some  curious  ones  lingered  near  the  casket  as 
the  old  woman  came  to  look  at  the  dead  and  speak  her 
good  word.  She  gazed  long  into  the  still  face,  then 
turned  to  the  group  who  waited  for  the  words  and  said, 
"  Poor  Joe !  He  always  was  such  a  good  whistler !  "  It 
was  true !  They  remembered  then  how  in  the  years  gone 
by  the  man's  cheery  whistle  had  floated  on  the  air  and 
often  inspired  and  heartened  them. 

Old  Jeremiah  did  much  thinking  those  days.  The 
death  of  his  son  and  the  coming  of  Sarah  had  opened  his 
eyes  to  truths  hidden  from  him  for  years.  But  the  trou- 
bles under  which  he  had  passed  left  their  stamp  upon 
him.  He  stooped  and  looked  older.  The  weight  of  busi- 
ness seemed  to  be  growing  heavy  and  he  welcomed  the 
opportunity  to  initiate  Sarah  into  the  secrets  of  hardware 
and  give  more  and  more  of  his  affairs  into  her  hands. 

The  responsibilities  thus  thrust  upon  the  girl  did  not 
dismay  her,  rather  they  filled  her  with  pride.  Her  grand- 
father trusted  her ! 

One  day  in  September  as  she  sat  in  the  office  looking 
over  some  bills  and  making  out  a  list  of  orders  for  her 
grandfather's  approval,  a  strange  paper  lay  before  her 
eyes  as  she  turned  over  a  stack  of  order  sheets.  Dan 
Roth  had  arranged  the  papers — what  had  that  one  to  do 
with  orders?  It  was  a  white  sheet  the  same  size  as  the. 


266    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

others,  but  its  surface  was  covered  with  her  grandfa- 
ther's name.  Some  twenty  copies  of  it  were  written 
closely,  one  under  the  other,  copy-book  style,  Jeremiah 
Burkhart.  At  first  glance  she  thought  it  her  grandfa- 
ther's handwriting,  then  she  looked  more  closely.  It  was 
a  clever,  successful  attempt  to  copy  the  writing  of  the 
owner  of  the  hardware  store !  Who  had  done  it  ?  Who 
but  Dan?  A  great  suspicion  woke  in  her  heart.  Had 
Dan  tried  to  write  like  her  grandfather?  For  what  pur- 
pose? The  paper  fell  from  her  hand.  She  was  grateful 
that  Dan  was  not  in  the  office.  She  must  hide  it  before 
he  returned.  But  she  sat  and  looked  at  it  dumfounded. 
The  writer  had  had  difficulty  with  the  old-fashioned 
script  of  Jeremiah  Burkhart's  day.  The  curly  B  was 
hard  to  copy  and  the  slant  writing  had  been  almost  im- 
possible to  do  well — Dan  wrote  vertical  writing.  The 
last  names  at  the  bottom  of  the  page  were  remarkably 
like  the  signature  of  the  old  man.  Oh,  what  had  she 
stumbled  upon  ?  Was  Dan  daring  to — but  no !  He  was 
a  silly  young  boy  who  needed  some  hard  bumps  to  bring 
him  to  his  senses  but  surely  he  would  not  be  guilty  of 
forgery!  What  an  ugly  word!  She  shivered  at  the 
thought  of  it.  Determined  to  keep  watch  over  the  boy 
she  stuffed  the  paper  into  her  blouse  and  applied  herself 
to  the  bills  and  orders.  "  I'll  keep  two  eyes  on  Dan 
Roth,"  she  decided.  "  He  needn't  think  he  can  cheat  my 
grandfather!  He'll  stand  watching,  I'm  thinking." 

She  took  the  incriminating  paper  home  and  placed  it 
in  her  bureau  drawer.  "  Now  for  some  Sherlock  Holmes 
shrewdness,"  she  told  herself. 

Dan  did  not  discover  the  loss  of  the  paper.  He  had 
made  many  such  attempts  to  copy  the  name,  then  torn 
them  into  shreds.  But  he  wondered  why  Sarah  looked 


A  DISCOVERY  267 

at  him  so  keenly  when  he  returned  to  the  office.  "  Ah," 
he  thought  complacently,  "  guess  she's  coming  round ! 
Give  her  time  and  she'll  be  eating  out  of  my  hand.  She's 
deuced  good-looking  but  as  proud  as  Lucifer."  How- 
ever, he  liked  girls  with  spirit,  ones  you  had  to  fight  to 
get.  Not  that  he  wanted  to  marry  her — far  from  it! 
Though,  when  he  came  to  think  about  it,  she  would  be 
a  good  catch  for  she  would  some  day  inherit  all  the 
Burkhart  money.  She  was  the  last  of  that  family  and 
Fairview  said  Jeremiah  was  one  of  its  richest  men.  No, 
he  wouldn't  think  of  marrying  her,  the  little  wildcat! 
How  she  stung  his  face  that  day  in  the  woods !  But  he'd 
get  even  some  day.  He'd  make  her  like  him  and  then  trot 
off  and  forget  her.  He  could  dance  and  not  pay  the 
piper.  Of  course  he  would  have  to  be  careful  not  to 
make  the  old  man  doubt  him  for  he  wanted  to  hold  on  to 
the  position  in  the  office.  He  would  have  to  walk  cir- 
cumspectly to  please  the  old  man.  Pshaw!  Only  for 
that  he'd  pay  back  that  upstart  who  acted  as  though  a 
Roth  were  not  good  enough  for  her!  He'd  try  to  make 
her  care  for  him,  though,  to  save  his  pride. 

However,  Sarah  gave  him  no  encouragement.  Every 
overture  for  friendliness  she  met  with  cool  indifference, 
until  he  became  more  and  more  eager  to  win  her  friend- 
ship. His  mother  was  pleased  by  the  girl's  refusal  to 
have  any  semblance  of  friendship  with  Dan,  yet  she,  too, 
resented  Sarah's  haughty  scorn  of  Dan.  What  a  shame, 
thought  Mrs.  Roth,  that  all  the  Burkhart  money  would 
go  to  a  girl  like  that!  If  she  were  a  different  type  Dan 
might  have  feathered  his  nest  very  nicely  by  marrying 
her.  But  much  as  Mrs.  Roth  liked  money  and  little  as 
she  had  at  her  command,  she  felt  that  ambitions  would 
be  gratified  at  too  costly  a  price  if  the  money  were  se- 


268 

cured  by  Dan's  marriage  with  the  daughter  of  a  convict. 
She  still  thanked  heaven  that  her  family  was  free  from 
such  taints.  She  hoped  Sarah  would  never  care  for  him. 

Mrs.  Roth  might  have  spared  herself  any  disquietude 
on  that  subject.  Sarah  had  no  intentions  of  angling  for 
Dan.  In  fact  she  regretted  deeply  any  former  friendli- 
ness for  she  knew  that  what  had  happened  she  had 
brought  upon  herself.  "  I  ran  around  with  Dan  to  get 
his  mother's  goat  and  the  goat  turned  and  butted  me," 
she  thought  whimsically. 

Then,  too,  the  girl  had  other  things  to  claim  her  at- 
tention. Since  her  return  from  the  mountains  her  days 
had  been  filled  so  full  that  she  felt  certain  she  was,  at 
last,  experiencing  all  the  thrills  and  busy  times  other 
girls  knew.  Working  in  the  store  and  office,  helping  in 
the  house  and  garden,  during  the  long  autumn  days,  the 
hours  were  all  too  short.  Sometimes  when  evening  came 
Mary  Becker  and  a  few  of  the  other  girls  stopped  and 
asked  her  to  go  for  one  of  the  long  walks  round  the  town 
or  they  stopped  at  the  home  of  one  of  the  crowd  and  sat 
in  friendly  fashion  on  the  porch  and  laughed  and  ex- 
changed confidences  as  she  had  so  longed  to  do  during 
those  first  days  of  her  ostracism.  Every  Saturday  after- 
noon she  accompanied  one  of  the  aunts  "up-town,"  which 
meant  in  Fairview  walking  up  the  shaded  streets  to  the 
business  section  and  buying  provisions  for  the  week-end. 
When  Sarah  went  along,  a  big  basket  on  her  arm,  she 
felt  most  important,  though  the  packages  in  her  basket 
held  such  ordinary  contents  as  coffee,  dried  beef  or 
cheese.  At  last  she  was  sharing  in  a  real  home  and  each 
detail  of  it  was  glorified  in  her  eyes. 

Since  the  return  from  Mount  Gretna  the  Reverend 
Snavely  had  an  odd,  puzzling  way  of  being  friendly  one 


A  DISCOVERY  269 

day  and  distant  the  next.  At  times  it  hurt  her.  Had 
she  fallen  in  his  estimation  since  that  day  she  was  lost 
in  the  woods?  Why  did  he  wear  that  air  of  cool  aloof- 
ness, that  look  of  a  desire  to  keep  out  of  contact  with 
her?  Then  her  old  bravado  came  to  her  rescue  and  she 
went  about  humming  gay  songs,  laughing  at  nothings,  not 
daring  to  confess  to  herself  that  the  songs  were  loudest 
when  the  heart  ached  most. 

However,  sometimes  the  rector  jumped  across  the 
hedge  and  joined  Sarah  on  the  porch  and  then  she  im- 
agined she  could  detect  on  his  face  an  expression  of 
I-don't-care-I-had-to-come !  At  such  times  Aunt  Sybilla 
did  not  welcome  him  very  cordially.  She  was  suspicious 
and  remembered  Mrs.  Roth's  information  that  he  had  a 
penchant  for  making  love  to  girls  then  leaving  them  to 
regret.  The  lonely  girl  from  Sunset  Mountain  had  en- 
tered far  enough  into  the  affections  of  the  grim  old  aunt 
to  claim  her  protection.  She  wasn't  goin'  to  have  any 
'Piscopal  preacher  make  a  fool  of  her  niece!  Why  had 
the  girl  ever  joined  the  'Piscopal  Church?  Why  did  they 
have  to  live  next  door  to  the  preacher  of  it  ?  Heathenish 
doin's  they  had  in  that  church,  just  about  like  them 
Catholics  she  heard  a'ready!  So  Aunt  Sybilla  sat,  a 
silent,  watchful  guardian  when  the  rector  called.  Their 
conversation  did  not  interest  her.  She  wondered  where 
Sarah  had  learned  to  talk  such  funny  things,  all  about 
poetry  and  books  and  things  nobody  knew  years  ago.  If 
they  had  discussed  the  weather  and  crops  and  wondered 
how  much  Felkers'  new  automobile  cost  or  whether  old 
Dan  Miller  would  get  the  electric  lights  put  in  his  house 
next  fall  like  he  promised  his  wife,  then  there  would  have 
been  some  sense  in  sitting  on  a  porch  for  three  hours 
talking.  Sometimes  they  talked  about  religion  and  then 


270    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

the  girl  said  things  that  made  her  aunt  think  a  missionary 
would  not  be  amiss  in  the  Burkhart  home.  For  instance, 
one  day  the  girl  said  to  the  rector,  "  I  think  the  biggest 
hypocrites  I  ever  knew  were  church  people." 

"  Yes,"  agreed  the  man,  "  but  remember,  there  never 
was  a  counterfeit  without  a  genuine." 

Then  Sarah  looked  thoughtful  and  admitted  she  had 
no  answer  to  that,  and  the  preacher  went  on,  "  Don't  you 
know  that  the  worst  scamps  in  the  world  like  to  hide 
behind  the  best  things  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  have  been  prejudiced.  I  am  beginning  to 
understand  some  things  that  were  dark  to  me." 

Aunt  Sybilla  gasped  then,  for  the  man  laid  his  hand 
upon  the  girl's  arm  and  said,  "  You  are  too  fine  to  be 
skeptical  or  cynical."  The  woman  wondered  why  he 
didn't  use  words  abody  could  understand. 

When  October  came  with  its  cool  days  and  fires  the 
girl  in  the  big  Burkhart  house  experienced  another  series 
of  thrills.  It  was  delightful  to  run  to  the  cellar  and  put 
on  drafts,  call  to  Aunt  Sybilla  about  the  fires,  and  feel 
she  was  needed.  When  they  sat  in  the  cozy  sitting-room 
by  the  lamp  she  discovered  what  an  interesting  com- 
panion her  grandfather  could  be.  He  had  many  stories 
of  his  youth  tucked  away  in  his  brain,  stories  that  had 
been  handed  down  from  other  generations.  Some  were 
about  ancestors  who  had  lived  in  Lancaster  County  dur- 
ing the  time  of  Indians,  when  massacres  occurred  and 
the  shotgun  was  kept  within  reach.  Then  of  later  days, 
during  the  great  Civil  War,  when  the  enemy  soldiers  had 
reached  the  Susquehanna  and  the  people  fled  in  terror 
past  the  old  farmhouse  in  which  they  lived,  fled  in 
Conestoga  wagons  with  their  worldly  possessions  and 
children  mixed  promiscuously  under  the  white  canvas. 


A  DISCOVERY  271 

Each  story  of  that  sturdy  pioneer  stock  was  more  charm- 
ing to  the  girl  than  any  colorful  tale  of  Ulysses.  They 
were  her  people,  from  them  she  had  sprung ! 

When  cold  weather  came  Aunt  Mary  brought  out  a 
popper  and  taught  the  girl  how  to  make  popcorn  balls 
and  taffy  after  ancient  recipes  handed  down  from  grand- 
mothers long  dead.  Aunt  Mary  even  manceuvered  until 
Sybilla  gave  her  consent  to  a  taffy  pull  in  the  Burkhart 
kitchen.  One  night  eight  girls  from  the  class  came  to 
the  kitchen  that  had  never  known  such  jollity  for  many 
years  and  with  the  help  of  Aunt  Mary  pans  of  taffy  were 
cooked  and  then  pulled  until  hands  were  blistered  and 
everything  sticky.  It  was  Sarah's  first  party  and  she 
reveled  in  it. 

Aunt  Sybilla  was  the  habitual  wet-blanket.  She 
couldn't  see  the  use  "  makin'  such  candy  that  sticks  to 
false  teeth  like  shoemaker's  wax.  Now  peppermints  and 
lemon  drops  were  more  fit  to  eat !  All  she  wanted  was 
that  they  should  wash  the  tables  right  so  the  sticky  mess 
gets  off!" 

Sarah  was  having  the  time  of  her  life  those  days  and 
she  frankly  admitted  it  to  the  three  in  the  big  house  with 
her. 

"  You  are  so  good  to  me  I  won't  ever  want  to  go  away 
from  here." 

"Away!  What  made  you  think  of  such  a  thing?" 
asked  the  old  man.  "  Were  you  thinkin'  of  such  a  thing  ? 
Ain't  this  your  home  ?  " 

"  I  don't  want  to  go,  but  don't  you  ever  get  tired  of 
having  me  around  ?  " 

"  Ach,  don't  talk  so  dumb !  "  came  Aunt  Sybilla's  crisp 
command.  "  I  guess  now  we  got  used  to  you  we  want 
to  keep  you,  till  you  get  married,  anyhow." 


272    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

"  Married !  "  echoed  the  grandfather.  "  Any  boys 
sneakin'  round  here  and  I  don't  know  it  ?  " 

"  No,"  Sarah  hastened  to  assure  him.  "  Dan  Roth  is 
the  only  boy  in  Fairview  who  ever  talks  to  me  except 
passing  the  time,  and  he's  not  the  kind  I  like.  But  I'm 
not  wanting  any  beaus.  I'm  too  happy  having  you  people 
to  think  about  such  things.  Haven't  I  two  aunts  and  a 
grandpap  ?  What  more  could  I  want  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  wait  once,"  Aunt  Mary  shook  her  head 
wisely,  "  old  aunts  are  all  right,  but  when  that  nice  young 
man  comes  along  that's  the  right  one  we  won't  count." 

So  Aunt  Mary  knew  something  about  romance  after 
all,  decided  the  girl.  She  had  taken  it  for  granted  that 
the  woman  had  never  had  any  love  affairs.  And  yet 
could  a  woman  who  had  never  known  the  softening  in- 
fluence of  love  with  all  its  humanizing  tenderness  have 
in  her  bosom  a  heart  like  that  Aunt  Mary  constantly  re- 
vealed ? 

"  Aunt  Mary,"  she  asked  her  when  they  were  alone, 
"  tell  me  about  your  romances." 

"  Ach — why "  a  flush  crept  across  her  face,  a  ten- 
der smile  as  if  she  were  drawing  from  years  long  dead  a 
precious  treasure.  "  I  haven't  much  to  tell.  Only  once 
did  I  like  a  man,  a  nice  one  he  was  and  we  would  have 
been  happy.  But  just  when  we  were  promised  your — 
Jerry  went  away  and  then  mom  died  and  Sybilla  had 
her  trouble  and  I  said  I  didn't  see  how  I  could  go  off 
and  be  married  and  be  happy  and  let  pop  and  Sybilla 
alone  in  this  big  house  and  so  much  trouble  with  them. 
So  we  said  we'd  wait  a  while  till  things  got  a  little  set- 
tled. Then  the  next  year  he  got  the  typhoid  from  bad 
water  where  he  boarded  down  the  country  and  he  died. 
I  always  blamed  myself  thinking  that  if  we'd  married 


A  DISCOVERY  1273 

he  wouldn't  boarded  there  and  mebbe  would  be  Hvin'  yet. 
But  abody  can't  know  what's  the  best  to  do  sometimes." 

"Aunt  Mary ! "  Sarah  twined  her  arm  about  the  neck 
of  the  woman  and  drew  the  white-capped  head  down  for 
a  kiss.  "  Here  I  was  thinking  you  never  had  any  trouble 
and  you  had  the  real  one  and  it  left  you  sweet  and  kind, 
while  Aunt  Sybilla " 

"  Sh,  Sarah !  It  ain't  nice  to  talk  about  poor  Sybilla, 
for  not  everybody  can  take  trouble  the  same  way." 

"  No,  it  takes  a  big  heart  to  meet  it  like  you  did ! " 


CHAPTER  XVII 

COALS  OF  FIRE 

As  the  Christmas  season  drew  near  Sarah  could  have 
shouted  her  joy  aloud  through  the  streets  of  Fairview. 
Everything  seemed  to  be  working  together  for  her  happi- 
ness ;  no  clouds  marred  her  days.  Aunt  Mary  and  Aunt 
Sybilla  began  making  delicious  cookies  and  cakes  in  such 
quantities  that  some  of  the  baking  was  done  at  night  and 
Sarah  found  time  to  help.  As  she  stood  elbow  deep  in 
flour  and  rolled  the  cookies  and  pressed  shellbark  kernels 
into  them  she  was  happier  than  she  had  ever  been  before. 
She  was  anticipating  many  thrills  as  she  looked  forward 
to  Christmas  morning  when  those  same  cookies  would 
be  placed  in  baskets  and  carried  through  the  frosty 
streets  to  numerous  friends  and  relatives,  or  needy  ones 
to  whom  the  aunts  were  Lady  Bountifuls  on  Christmas 
day. 

The  matter  of  presents  for  the  family  engrossed  her 
attention  and  afforded  many  hours  of  exciting  contem- 
plation. Grandfather  should  have  a  big  box  of  chocolates 
of  the  finest  she  could  buy  in  Lancaster.  Aunt  Sybilla 
should  be  presented  with  a  bottle  of  perfume,  having  one 
day  confessed  she  always  wanted  some  but  considered  it 
a  sinful  waste  of  money.  Aunt  Mary  would  find  at  her 
plate  Christmas  morning  a  hand-colored  picture  of  her 
mother  to  place  on  her  bureau.  She  had  seen  one  in  the 
town  and  wished  she  could  have  their  mother's  done  like 
that  and  put  in  a  gilt  frame. 


COALS  OF  FIRE  275 

The  girl  planned  it  with  little  flutterings  of  the  heart. 
She  would  give  them  things  they  wanted — white  hya- 
cinths for  once!  Her  earnings  in  the  store  had  been 
saved,  part  of  them  placed  in  bank  and  marked  in  the 
little  book  duly  inspected  and  approved  of  by  the  aunts 
and  grandfather.  But  each  week  the  girl  had  kept  from 
her  pay  some  portion  of  it  to  spend  on  little  things  dear 
to  the  heart  of  femininity.  Recently  she  had  pared  down 
on  those  personal  expenditures  so  that  when  she  counted 
the  amount  reserved  for  gifts  she  found  fifty-five  dollars. 
"  Hooray !  that  means  I  can  buy  all  the  things  for  my 
people,  send  a  box  to  Mrs.  Maloney,  a  gift  to  Miss 
Hughes,  and  still  have  some  money  left  to  get  those  new 
shoes  Aunt  Sybilla  says  I  must  buy.  This  is  going  to 
be  the  gladdest,  merriest  Christmas  I  have  ever  known! 
I  won't  need  any  one  to  '  call-me-early,-mother-dear/ 
I'll  be  up  before  daylight." 

But  Sarah  Burkhart  reckoned  without  fate! 

The  very  day  before  she  intended  to  take  the  im- 
portant shopping  trip  to  Lancaster  she  was  alone  in  the 
office.  Grandfather  was  at  home  with  a  slight  cold. 
Sarah  had  been  given  directions  about  some  banking 
business  to  be  attended  to  and  other  urgent  matters  and 
had  bent  over  her  desk  all  morning  to  dispose  of  the 
work.  Some  canceled  checks  were  on  hand  for  filing; 
she  looked  them  over,  and  a  cry  escaped  her.  Quickly 
stifling  it  with  a  cough  she  made  sure  that  no  person  was 
watching  her  and  then  bent  over  the  check  in  her  hand. 
It  was  made  out  in  favor  of  Dan  Roth,  fifty  dollars, 
signed  by  Jeremiah  Burkhart,  endorsed  and  cashed.  But 
the  signature  of  Jeremiah  Burkhart  was  the  same  as  that 
on  the  practice  sheet  she  had  discovered  and  kept.  It 
had  passed  the  observant  bank  employee  and  would  have 


276         THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

passed  her  if  the  memory  of  that  sheet  in  her  bureau 
drawer  were  not  fresh  in  her  mind. 

The  demon  of  revenge  that  sleeps  in  every  human 
heart  awoke  and  exulted  and  danced.  Here  was  a  chance 
to  humiliate  Mrs.  Roth !  Her  Dan,  her  boasted  Dan,  was 
a  forger !  No  longer  could  she  look  sanctimoniously  up- 
ward and  thank  heaven  there  was  no  criminal  in  her 
family.  Sarah  tucked  the  check  in  her  waist.  She 
nodded  her  head  in  satisfaction  and  thought,  "  I  guess 
people  like  Mrs.  Roth  get  their  comeuppance  if  we  wait 
long  enough." 

When  Dan  came  into  the  office,  in  a  flurry  of  eagerness 
to  finish  the  work  as  soon  as  possible  and  be  free  for  the 
holidays,  the  girl  looked  at  him  while  he  bent  over  his 
books.  How  young  he  was  and  attractive  in  a  way! 
His  face  was  appealing  in  spite  of  the  too-full  lips.  He 
did  not  have  the  appearance  of  a  criminal.  Would  he  be 
sentenced  to  the  penitentiary — the  word  chilled  her  to 
the  marrow.  She  had  a  vision  of  the  place  she  had 
visited  to  see  her  father.  Would  Dan  be  placed  there  or 
in  some  similar  building?  What  chance  for  manhood  had 
he  after  release  from  it?  What  would  his  mother  do  in 
his  absence  ?  "  Ah,"  she  tossed  her  head,  "  I  don't  care 
what  happens  to  either  of  them !  They  have  been  rotten 
to  me  and  I'm  going  to  pay  them  back !  I'll  never  have 
another  chance  like  this!  The  fates  are  with  me  this 
time !  "  She  gloated  over  the  prospect  like  a  miser  over 
his  gold.  She'd  take  the  check  to  Mrs.  Roth  and  prove 
what  a  son  was  hers,  then  she'd  give  it  to  her  grand- 
father and  let  him  deal  with  the  offender. 

After  supper  she  ran  up  to  her  room  and  compared  the 
writing  on  the  check  with  that  on  the  paper  in  her 
drawer.  There  was  the  same  little  imperfection  in  the  r, 


COALS  OF  FIRE  277 

the  indecision  and  wavering  of  the  J,  and  in  writing  fifty 
Dan  had  used  an  f  unlike  her  grandfather's.  Sarah 
curled  her  lips — "  He's  a  dumb  forger.  I  could  have 
done  better  than  that !  " 

She  replaced  the  paper  in  the  drawer  and  thought  of 
some  errand  to  account  to  the  inquisitive  aunts  for  her 
visit  to  the  house  across  the  street. 

Dan  and  his  mother  were  alone,  sitting  in  the  sitting- 
room.  The  girl's  heart  sank  a  trifle  as  she  glanced 
through  the  windows  into  the  lighted  room  and  saw  the 
home  picture  of  the  two  about  the  rose-colored  lamp. 
But  her  lips  tightened  next  instant  and  she  knocked  at 
the  door. 

Mrs.  Roth's  face  frankly  expressed  wonder  as  Dan 
ushered  the  visitor  into  the  room.  "  You  want  to  see 
me?" 

"  You  and  Dan." 

"  Whew ! "  whistled  the  boy  boldly,  "  I  suppose  if  dad 
were  living  you'd  include  him — sort  of  a  family  party, 
eh!" 

Sarah  looked  at  him  and  scorned  to  answer  his  re- 
mark, then  she  burst  out  boldly,  "  Dan  Roth,  why  did 
grandfather  give  you  a  check  for  fifty  dollars  ? " 

The  youth  paled,  then  tried  to  bluff.  "  Oh,"  he  said 
convincingly,  "  he  often  does  that.  When  there  are  little 
bills  to  pay  he  writes  a  big  check  and  I  get  it  cashed  and 
then  pay  the  bills,  when  they're  to  people  in  town." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  the  mother  indignantly. 
"  You  dare  to  think  that  because  your  father  did  such 
things  my  Dan  would  stoop  to  them?  How  can  you  in- 
sinuate such  a  crime !  You  better  leave  the  house  before 
I  show  you  where  the  carpenter  left  a  hole! " 

"  Oh,  no,  I'm  not  going  yet,  I'm  not  through !    Dan 


Roth,  perhaps  grandfather  does  write  checks  to  you  but 
he  didn't  write  that  one !  Some  time  ago  you  left  one  of 
your  practice  sheets  where  it  fell  into  my  hands — a  very 
imprudent  thing  to  do !  I  compared  that  with  the  check 
and  found  them  alike." 

"  Sarah !  "  came  the  agonized  cry  of  Dan,  then  he  hung 
his  head. 

"  You  better  be  scared ;  forger  isn't  a  very  nice 
word." 

"  Will  you  go !  "  cried  the  mother  frantically.  "  How 
do  you  dare  accuse  Dan  of  such  a  thing !  " 

"  I  have  proof  of  it." 

"  Dan ! "  But  Dan  could  not  meet  the  gaze  of  his 
mother. 

"  The  jig's  up,"  he  confessed.    "  I  did  do  it." 

"  Dan !  "  The  mother  gave  one  cry  then  sank  back  in 
her  chair.  She  didn't  faint  but  all  feeling  seemed  to  flow 
from  her.  No,  it  could  never  be  true.  Her  boy  could 
not  be  guilty  of  such  a  thing!  Her  proud  spirit  was 
crushed.  "  Dan,  say  it  isn't  true,  that  it's  all  a  hideous 
mistake  !  "  she  implored. 

"  I  can't,  mother.  I'm  rotten !  It  was  the  first  one  I 
forged " 

"  Oh,  don't  use  that  dreadful  word ! " 

"  Well,"  said  Sarah  with  the  cloying  sweetness  of  a 
fiend,  "  what  will  you  thank  heaven  for  now  since  you 
lost  your  pet  one  about  not  having  a  criminal  in  the 
family?" 

"  Sarah,"  the  youth  was  wretchedly  humble,  "  say  any- 
thing to  me  but  don't  be  hard  on  mother.  She's  always 
been  so  proud  of  me,  bragged  me  up  sky-high.  This  will 
kill  her." 

"  Um — you  should  have  thought  of  that  sooner."    The 


COALS  OF  FIRE  279 

girl  stood  like  an  obdurate  Nemesis.  "  Now  " — she  ad- 
dressed Mrs.  Roth — "you  know  how  I  felt  when  you 
rubbed  it  in  about  my  father." 

"  Oh,  Sarah,  I  was  rotten  too !  I'm  sorry — forgive 
me." 

But  Sarah  stood  rigid.  She  had  no  desire  to  forgive. 
Some  of  the  Burkhart  stubbornness  ruled  her.  "  It's  easy 
to  say  forgive  when  you  get  in  a  pinch." 

"  But  I  mean  it,"  the  woman  repeated.  "  I'm  sorry  for 
everything  I  said  about  you.  I  want  you  to  know  that, 
even  if  you  don't  believe  it.  If  there'll  be  any  satisfaction 
to  you  to  know  that  my  heart  is  broken  because  of  Dan 
then  you  may  have  that  satisfaction  right  now.  Your 
grandfather — what  does  he  think  about  it?  After  he 
trusted  Dan  and  was  so  good  to  him !  But  I  spoiled  Dan 
from  a  baby,  I  guess.  He  was  all  I  had  after  his  father 
died  and  I  spoiled  him.  What  will  your  grandfather 
do?" 

Something  seemed  to  break  in  Sarah's  heart.  "  Why," 
she  said  more  gently,  "  he  doesn't  know  about  it." 

Hope  dawned  for  an  instant  in  the  tear-stained  face  of 
the  mother.  "  Then  just  you  know  about  it?  " 

"  Mother !  "  cried  Dan,  guessing  the  mother's  thoughts, 
"  don't  ask  Sarah  to  keep  it  from  him !  After  the  rotten 
way  I've  treated  her  no  one  can  blame  her  for  taking 
the  chance  to  get  even." 

"  What  do  you  think  I  am,  Dan  Roth  ?  "  she  flared,  re- 
senting their  thinking  her  capable  of  doing  the  very  thing 
she  had  come  to  do !  Then  there  came  to  her  the  memory 
of  her  father's  wretchedness,  the  wasted  years  behind  a 
walled  domain,  the  sorrow  visited  upon  others  because  of 
his  sin.  That  memory  weighed  with  all  that  was  noble 
in  her  nature  and  she  turned  to  the  boy  and  said,  "  If  I 


280    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

don't  tell  will  you  promise  to  behave  yourself  and  never 
do  such  a  thing  again  ?  " 

"  Sarah!  If  you  could  do  that !  But  you're  just  teas- 
ing me  as  a  cat  does  a  mouse." 

"  Um,  much  you  know  about  me,  Dan  Roth !  You 
Dutch  never  can  understand  the  Irish!  I  guess  if  there's 
one  word  I've  learned  the  meaning  of  it's  FORGIVE.  You 
promise  what  I  ask  and  I'll  fix  things  up  so  no  one  will 
ever  know  it  but  we  three." 

"  Sarah ! "  Mrs.  Roth  grabbed  the  girl's  hand. 

"  Come  on,"  said  the  girl,  wrenching  loose  and  falling 
into  the  slang  of  Red  Rose  Court,  "  let's  get  the  thing 
over  before  somebody  butts  in.  Dan  Roth,  will  you 
promise  to  let  other  people's  money  where  it  belongs  and 
never  be  dishonest  again  or  give  your  mother  such  a 
scare  ?  " 

"  I  promise."    He  put  his  hand  on  his  heart. 

"  Good !  Here  goes !  "  She  pulled  the  forged  check 
from  her  dress  and  held  it  before  them.  Then  she  walked 
to  the  gas  log  and  threw  the  paper  into  the  flames  which 
speedily  devoured  it. 

"  Sarah,"  the  woman  faltered,  "  how  can  I  thank 
you?" 

"  By  not  thanking  me  at  all.  But  perhaps  some  day 
you'll  meet  another  girl  like  me  who  has  had  a  clouded 
past  and  if  you  could  be  kind  to  her " 

"  Child,  you're  an  angel !  " 

"  No,  I'm  not !  Angels  have  golden  hair,  not  black 
locks  and  freckles."  For  the  first  time  that  evening  the 
girl  smiled.  "  I  haven't  got  any  wings  sprouting  on  me 
yet  so  you  could  notice  them.  I'll  tell  you  the  truth — I 
came  over  here  determined  to  make  you  and  Dan  crawl 
and  then  I  meant  to  take  that  check  straight  to  my  grand- 


COALS  OF  FIRE  281 

father  and  clap  my  hands  while  Dan  got  his  punishment 
and  you  suffered  with  him.  Now  you  see  I'm  as  bad  as 
anybody.  It  was  only  when  you  said  something  about 
forgiving  that  I  got  my  sense  back." 

"  Sarah,  I'll  go  straight  after  this.  In  these  ten  min- 
utes I  lived  through  all  the  horrors  of  twenty  years  in 
jail.  Your  grandfather  might  discover  it,  though,  then 
what  would  happen  ?  " 

"  What  he  doesn't  know  won't  hurt  him.  But  we  have 
to  fix  his  account  at  once.  Have  you  the  money  to  make 
it  good?" 

Dan  shook  his  head.  "  I  spent  it  in  Lancaster  last 
week.  And  mother  was  just  saying  before  you  came  that 
we  have  to  economize  until  New  Year  when  she  gets 
her  next  check.  We  spent  everything  for  the  holidays, 
gifts,  turkey  and  so  on." 

"  I  tell  you,  Dan,  I  have  fifty  I  don't  need  now.  I'll 
put  it  to  bank  in  grandfather's  name  and  you  can  pay  me 
back  when  you  get  it." 

"  Say  " — there  was  a  wholesome  admiration  and  rever- 
ence in  his  eyes  as  he  looked  at  her — "you  don't  do 
things  by  halves,  do  you  ?  " 

"  No,  I  swallow  the  whole  thing,  bait,  hook,  line  and 
sinker !  " 

"  You're  a  wonder.  I  was  a  rotten  brute  that  day  at 
Mount  Gretna !  Mother,  I  grabbed  Sarah  and  kissed  her 
and  would  have  kissed  her  ten  times  more  if  she  hadn't 
run  away  from  me  !  Now  you  know  what  a  contemptible 
thing  I've  been !  But  I'm  cured,  I'm  going  straight !  I'm 
going  to  be  what  you  thought  I  was,  a  son  to  be  proud 
of." 

"  Well,  Dan  Roth,  you  ought  to  be ! "  spoke  up  Sarah. 
"You  have  a  mother  to  be  proud  of  you  or  nurse  a 


282        THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

broken  heart  because  of  you.  Don't  you  know  how  much 

that  means  ?  To  have  a  mother — if  I  had  one "  She 

turned  away  and  pressed  back  the  tears. 

Dan  stepped  up  to  her  then  and  took  her  hands. 
"  Sarah,  you  are  saving  me  from  disgrace.  I'll  never  for- 
get it ! "  He  bent  his  head  and  lifted  her  hands  to  his 
lips.  Then  he  released  them  and  looked  at  her,  all  his 
earnest  awakened  young  soul  in  his  eyes. 

"  You're  an  angel !  "  he  told  her. 

She  answered  lightly  to  relieve  the  seriousness  of  the 
moment.  "  If  everybody  keeps  telling  me  I  am  one  I'll 
soon  be  thinking  I'm  dead !  We  won't  ever  say  anything 
about  this  again;  just  hand  me  the  fifty  when  you  have 
it  and  that's  the  end." 

They  would  have  detained  her,  smothered  her  with 
thanks  and  incoherent  murmurings  of  eternal  devotion 
for  her  goodness  but  she  laughed  them  away  and  ran 
from  the  house.  In  her  heart  was  a  lasting  impression 
of  the  divine  quality  of  mercy.  She  felt  sorry  for  the 
two  who  still  had  the  companionship  of  troubled  con- 
sciences. After  all,  she  reflected,  gossipers  do  themselves 
more  harm  than  those  they  gossip  about.  Dan  and  his 
mother  would  have  seared  scars  in  their  hearts  for  a 
long  time  because  of  the  boy's  deviation  from  the  straight 
and  narrow  path.  For  the  first  time  she  felt  sorry  for 
them  and  saw  in  them  only  human  beings  frail  as  others, 
needing  the  help  of  other  mortals,  even  her  help.  She 
knew  now  the  meaning  of  that  phrase,  "  To  err  is  human, 
to  forgive  divine." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  HEART  OF  A  RECTOR 

THE  Reverend  James  Snavely  stepped  upon  the  Roth 
porch.  Ever  since  his  entering  upon  the  duties  of  the 
little  parish  in  Fairview  he  had  taken  an  interest  in  Dan, 
along  with  other  impulsive,  heedless  youths  of  the  town. 
He  had  encouraged  Dan's  natural  love  of  reading  and 
from  time  to  time  had  taken  him  books  to  enjoy. 

After  the  manner  of  small  town  familiarity  the  rector 
used  the  side-door  entrance  instead  of  formally  ringing 
the  bell.  That  evening  he  hummed  as  he  mounted  the 
steps.  Christmas  was  in  the  air  and  the  rector  of  St. 
Paul's  always  felt  the  tugging  of  its  eternal  heart  interest. 
The  windows  of  the  Roth  house  attracted  him.  He 
wished  some  of  the  residents  of  the  town  who  lived  be- 
hind closed  shutters  as  soon  as  evening  fell  would  copy 
Mrs.  Roth  and  have  their  lights  streaming  out  their  cheer 
on  dark  nights.  Idly  musing  on  that  subject  he  stooped 
a  bit  and  glanced  into  the  room  without  any  intention  of 
spying,  for  Dan  and  his  mother  usually  were  alone  at 
that  hour.  What  he  saw  as  he  stood  by  the  open  window 
made  him  draw  back  as  if  struck  by  an  unexpected 
missile.  By  the  light  of  the  rose-shaded  lamp  he  saw 
Dan  bending  over  the  uplifted  hands  of  Sarah  Burkhart, 
then  print  a  kiss  upon  them.  What  did  that  mean? 
Upon  what  romance  had  he  inadvertently  stumbled? 
Dan  and  Sarah — Sarah  and  Dan — to  care  for  each  other  ? 
He  could  scarcely  credit  it,  yet  there  they  stood  face  to 
face  and  the  girl  made  no  objection  to  the  caress.  Doubt- 


284    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

less  the  presence  of  Mrs.  Roth  prevented  a  more  demon- 
strative kiss.  The  rector  walked  away  from  the  window, 
down  the  steps  and  across  the  street  to  his  own  home. 
He  had  no  desire  to  enter  that  house  then.  The  scene  he 
had  witnessed  left  him  trembling,  dismayed,  unhappy. 
Fool  that  he  had  been !  He  wanted  Sarah,  of  course  he 
did!  But  he  had  been  too  blind  to  recognize  love  or,  if 
the  truth  be  told,  he  had  fought  against  confessing  that 
love.  He  had  deliberately  closed  his  heart  to  the  heaven- 
sent emotion.  Fool,  fool !  He  condemned  himself.  Was 
there  ever  a  girl  like  Sarah,  so  sweet,  tender,  big- 
hearted,  so  desirable !  He  ran  through  the  list  of  women 
he  knew — they  all  paled  beside  the  dark-haired,  gray- 
eyed  Dutch-Irish  girl  whose  father  had  been  a  convict 
and  she  herself  a  child  of  the  slums  and  reform  school. 
What  did  that  matter,  what  did  anything  matter  except 
that  he  loved  her  ?  And  he  had  lost  her  by  his  slow,  poky 
ambling  along.  He  had  walked  with  Sarah,  talked  with 
her,  consoled  and  advised  her,  comforted  her  in  sorrow, 
and  through  all  the  blessed  intimacy  he  had  gone  with 
clay  upon  his  eyes.  Perhaps  he  might  have  won  her  love 
if  he  had  utilized  his  opportunities.  If  she  could  care  for 
that  shallow  Dan — that  hour  the  rector  was  more  man 
than  minister  and  he  wanted  to  run  across  the  street  and 
snatch  the  girl  into  his  arms  and  declare  to  the  world 
she  was  his  by  right  of  love!  If  she  could  come  to  care 
for  Dan  surely  she  could  have  cared  for  him,  a  man  of 
finer  development  and  understanding.  How  smug  and 
complacent  he  had  been,  how  unmindful  of  the  presence 
of  the  little  God  of  Arrows !  And  then  when  he  feared 
the  inroads  of  the  Blind  God  how  he  had  set  up  a  barri- 
cade of  convention,  fear  of  Mrs.  Grundy,  and  false  pride 
to  keep  the  miracle  from  his  life!  He  dubbed  himself 


THE  HEART  OF  A  RECTOR  285 

an  asinine  fool  as  he  entered  the  house  and  thought  of 
the  radiant  young  lovers  across  the  street. 

An  hour  later  he  crossed  the  street  once  more.  Mrs. 
Roth  greeted  him  and  he  noted  that  her  face  bore  evi- 
dences of  recent  tears;  her  eyes  were  red  from  copious 
weeping. 

"  Can  I  help  ? "  he  asked  kindly. 

"  No,  oh,  no !  I  have  been  crying  but  just  tears  of 
joy.  I'm  so  happy !  " 

"  I'm  glad "  never  a  preacher  of  the  Gospel  lied 

more  valiantly.  He  was  not  glad,  his  heart  ached.  Well 
might  she  be  happy  if  her  son  had  conferred  upon  him 
the  honor  of  winning  Sarah's  love ! 

"  Yes,  I'm  so  happy !  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  about  it, 
but  I — I  promised  Dan  I  would  keep  it  a  secret.  But 
it's  him  I'm  happy  about.  I  feel  he  is  going  to  fulfil  my 
dreams  about  him  and  become  a  fine  young  man,  one  I 
can  be  proud  of.  I'm  so  happy !  "  She  was  almost  bab- 
bling in  her  relief  from  the  anxiety  about  Dan.  Her 
heart  was  soft  and  her  eyes  welled  with  tears  like  those 
of  a  lacrimose  child.  To  have  so  dreadful  a  tragedy 
averted  by  the  mercy  of  Sarah  was  more  than  she  had 
expected.  She  had  the  gossip's  respect  for  the  noble, 
altruistic  conduct  of  others  and,  in  spite  of  all  her  mean, 
pernicious  tongue  and  her  love  of  lurid  scandals,  she 
could  appreciate  what  the  girl  had  done. 

"  Oh,"  she  said  feelingly,  "  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I 
think  Sarah  Burkhart  is  the  dearest,  finest  girl  I  ever 
met ! " 

"  Yes — she  is  very  fine." 

"  There  ain't  a  word  in  the  whole  English  language  to 
describe  her !  "  declared  the  mother  effusively.  "  I  thank 
heaven  she  came  to  this  town !  " 


286    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

The  man  suppressed  a  smile.  In  spite  of  his  aching 
heart  he  saw  the  humor  of  the  words,  remembered  how 
often  Mrs.  Roth  had  thanked  heaven  for  lesser  blessings. 
What  could  have  happened  to  turn  her  into  so  eager  a 
champion  of  Sarah?  What,  except  that  Dan  and  the 
girl  had  come  to  an  understanding  in  love  and  by  some 
magic  the  mother  had  been  won  from  her  antagonism 
to  an  appreciation  of  the  girl  whose  rare  qualities  and 
personality  where  phenomenal  in  Fairview? 

The  rector  left  the  book  for  Dan  and  went  home,  more 
than  ever  convinced  that  his  inference  was  well  founded. 
Then  it  was  too  late,  forever  too  late,  like  the  foolish 
virgins'  knock  at  the  door ! 

His  unhappiness  was  not  lessened  the  following  day 
when  he  was  seated  in  his  study  preparing  the  sermon 
for  the  coming  Sabbath  and  Sarah's  voice  came  to  him 
in  song.  He  had  heard  her  frequently  since  her  arrival 
at  the  house  next  door.  Her  voice  was  not  more  than 
ordinarily  sweet  or  strong,  but  it  was  tuneful  and,  like 
her  laugh,  had  a  quality  that  attracted.  The  songs  she 
sang  were  generally  merry,  bubbling  ones,  but  that  day  it 
was  a  new  note,  the  old  one  of  pure  romance  and  senti- 
ment written  by  the  inimitable  Thomas  Moore,  "  Believe 
me  if  all  those  endearing  young  charms." 

The  man  paused  in  the  attempt  to  write  a  sermon.  The 
last  words  of  the  song  rang  into  his  consciousness  with 
the  resonance  of  a  silver  bell : 

"  No,  the  heart  that  has  truly  loved,  never  forgets, 

But  as  truly  loves  on  to  the  close : — 
As  the  sunflower  turns  on  her  god  when  he  sets, 
The  same  look  which  she  turned  when  he  rose." 

The  Reverend  Snavely  bowed  his  head  upon  the  desk 


THE  HEART  OF  A  RECTOR  287 

and  gave  himself  up  to  grief  and  regret.  He  never 
doubted  the  truthfulness  of  those  words.  Could  he  ever 
forget  Sarah,  the  child- woman  ?  Sarah,  adorable,  whim- 
sical yet  strong  and  courageous,  brave  to  stand  for  the 
right  and  meeting  the  taunts  of  her  inferiors  with  that 
irresistible  poise  and  calm  that  she  had  inherited  from  her 
actress  mother.  Sarah — ah,  she  was  more  precious  than 
mintage  of  gold  and  he  had  lost  her ! 


CHAPTER  XIX 

SUSPICION 

SARAH'S  long-planned  shopping  trip  to  Lancaster  lost 
some  of  its  potential  thrills  that  night  after  the  burning 
of  the  forged  check  as  she  sat  alone  and  counted  the 
worldly  goods  at  her  disposal  for  Christmas  gifts.  She 
feared  to  touch  the  money  deposited  in  bank,  for  she  had 
too  often  exhibited  proudly  her  bank-book  and  its  figures 
were  familiar  to  the  rest  of  the  household.  She  counted 
her  ready  cash — five  dollars  and  thirty-two  cents !  What 
about  the  lovely  gifts  she  had  planned  to  buy?  The  beau- 
tifully unnecessary  gifts  she  wanted  to  buy?  She  sighed 
but  did  not  regret  the  temporary  loss  of  her  fifty  dollars, 
for  was  not  the  peace  of  mind  of  a  mother — even  Mrs. 
Roth — worth  more  than  white  hyacinth  gifts?  Was  not 
the  reclamation  of  a  boy — even  Dan  Roth — more  to  be 
desired  than  paltry  perfume,  gilt-frame  pictures,  choco- 
lates ?  She  wasted  no  time  in  bemoaning  the  slimness  of 
her  pocketbook,  but  with  characteristic  buoyancy  set  to 
work  with  paper  and  pencil  to  see  how  elastic  she  could 
make  those  five  dollars  and  thirty-two  cents.  How  could 
she  squeeze  from  it  the  last  penny's  worth  of  joy  for 
others  ? 

She  would  buy  cheaper  candy  or  a  smaller  box — one 
dollar  for  that !  Perfume  at  seventy-five  cents,  the  low- 
est ;  a  gilt  frame  and  picture  already  ordered  came  to  the 
now-appalling  sum  of  two  dollars.  She  would  have  to 
buy  Miss  Hughes  an  insignificant  handkerchief  and  one 
for  Mary  Becker,  That  would  leave  seventy-five  cents  for 


SUSPICION; 

a  gift  for  Mrs,  Maloney  and  she  had  meant  to  send  her 
a  box  of  nuts,  candy  and  luxuries  she  knew  never  came 
to  Red  Rose  Court  except  in  parsimonious  portions. 
Well,  at  any  rate,  she  was  thankful  for  handkerchiefs ! 

"  They  are  such  a  blessing  for  the  shopper !  They  fill 
so  many  gaps,  are  so  handy  to  send  and  of  course,  every- 
body needs  handkerchiefs!  That  has  been  said  from  the 
first  day  of  their  invention !  If  your  money  is  low  or  you 
don't  know  what  under  the  sun  to  buy  for  her  or  him 
you  just  walk  to  the  handkerchief  counter,  close  your 
eyes,  say  *  Eeney,  meeney,  miney,  moe,'  and  stab  at  one, 
and  the  one  you  touch  you  buy.  It  requires  so  little  ex- 
penditure of  gray  matter  or  discrimination,  for  a  hand- 
kerchief's a  handkerchief!  I  can't  buy  those  new  shoes 
I  was  going  to  get  before  Christmas,  but  my  old  ones  will 
do.  I'll  just  keep  quiet  about  shoes  and  after  the  holi- 
days I'll  get  them." 

But  Aunt  Sybilla  did  not  forget  about  the  shoes.  She 
considered  it  her  duty  to  see  that  the  girl  was  supplied 
with  all  necessary  articles  of  clothing.  The  unessentials, 
like  gloves,  veils  and  such  frivolities,  she  left  to  Sarah, 
but  shoes  were  a  necessity  and  she  was  horrified  at  the 
very  idea  of  any  one  having  less  than  two  pairs,  one  for 
Sundays,  the  other  for  week-days. 

"  Sarah,"  she  announced  one  night  at  supper  several 
days  after  the  fifty  dollars  had  changed  hands,  "  I  seen 
the  shoe  man  to-day  and  he  said  his  new  ones  come  in. 
You  better  go  up  and  pick  out  a  pair  before  Christmas 
yet,  else  they  get  picked  over  so.  We  can  go  to-morrow 
if  you  get  out  the  store  a  little  early." 

Sarah  swallowed — how  to  parry  for  time — "  Why,"  she 
said  sweetly,  "  I  decided  not  to  get  the  shoes  until  after 
the  holidays." 


290        THE  MADONNA'OF  THE  CURB 

"What  for?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  need  them  right  away  and '  she 

floundered. 

"  Not  need  them !  With  only  one  Sunday  pair  and 
your  week-day  ones  needin'  solin'.  You  must  fetch  them 
to  the  shoemaker  now  and  you  need  another  pair,  that's 
sure." 

"  Why,  bless  your  heart,"  said  the  girl,  "  when  I  lived 
in  Red  Rose  Court  I  was  lucky  to  have  one  whole  pair." 

Aunt  Sybilla  threw  up  her  hands  in  a  horrified  gesture. 
"  My,  to  think  our  Jeremiah's  girl  would  come  so  low  as 
to  have  only  one  pair  of  shoes !  " 

Aunt  Mary  and  grandfather  made  soft  sounds  of  dis- 
may with  their  lips.  They,  too,  found  the  thought  of 
such  abject  poverty  too  sad  to  contemplate.  But  the 
diversion  was  too  trivial  to  side-track  Sybilla  permanently 
from  the  matter  to  be  considered. 

"  Then  it's  high  time  you  always  have  plenty  shoes. 
You  got  to  get  them  shoes  right  away.  I'll  go  up  with 
you  to-morow." 

Sarah  knew  the  futility  of  trying  to  evade  the  issue. 
"Aunt  Sybilla,  I  have  no  money  for  them  now." 

"  No  money !  Didn't  you  say  the  other  day  you  got 
over  fifty  dollars  for  shoes  and  presents?  You  ain't 
spent  all  that?" 

"  Most  of  it." 

"  Goodness-a-life,  what  for?" 

Before  the  girl  could  answer  grandpap  laid  his  knife 
and  fork  across  his  plate  and  addressed  her.  "  Sarah, 
mebbe  it  ain't  my  business  what  you  do  with  your  money 
when  you  earn  it,  but  I  can't  see  you  wasting  it  and  not 
try  to  stop  you.  Money  ain't  picked  off  the  streets. 
How  did  you  spend  so  much  ?  " 


SUSPICION  291 

"  I — I  didn't  really  spend  it.     I  loaned  it  to  some  one." 

"  Oh,  then  you  got  a  note  for  it  and  will  get  it  back." 

"  I'll  get  it  back  but  I  have  no  note  for  it." 

"  What  for  kind  of  business  is  that  ?  To  loan  money 
without  gettin'  any  writin'  for  it!  Thought  you  knew 
more  than  that !  I'd  like  to  know,  anyhow,  what  for  any- 
body loans  money  off  you.  Ain't  they  able  to  get  it  out 
the  bank  ?  "  The  old-time  severity  sounded  in  his  voice. 

"  I  can't  tell  you  about  it.  I  can't  ever  tell  you,  so 
please  don't  ask  me." 

Her  apparent  confusion  and  unwillingness  to  tell  the 
truth  aroused  the  suspicion  of  Aunt  Sybilla.  "  Sarah," 
she  began,  "  don't  you  play  no  tricks  on  us.  Your  grand- 
pap  is  too  good  to  you  for  you  to  do  what  you  can't  tell 
him  about.  Better  let  him  know  who's  borrowin'  money 
off  you." 

But  the  girl  shook  her  head  once  more.  "  I  can't !  I 
had  to  do  it,  but  I  can't  tell  you  about  it." 

"  Well,"  sniffed  the  woman,  "  it  looks  mighty  funny  to 
me." 

"Sybilla!"  Aunt  Mary's  voice  interjected.  "Don't 
make  on  you  think  Sarah  done  what  ain't  right.  Some- 
times there's  things  abody  can't  tell  about  but  they  ain't 
bad." 

Sarah  voiced  her  appreciation — "  You  know  I  didn't 
do  anything  wrong  with  the  money !  " 

"  Yes,  be  sure  I  do.  So  do  the  others,  only  they  look 
for  trouble  too  quick.  I  guess  I'm  a  softy  but  I  don't 
think  a  person  does  bad  until  I  know.  I  know  you  are 
all  right." 

"  Let's  hope  so,"  said  the  elder  sister  with  a  solemn  ex- 
pression. "  There's  been  trouble  enough  in  this  family 
without  Sarah  makin'  more." 


292    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

"Aunt  Sybilla!"  The  girl's  voice  rang  through  the 
room,  but  the  woman  walked  away  from  her  and  left  be- 
hind a  troubled  heart  in  the  bosom  of  Sarah. 

"  She  doesn't  trust  me  yet,"  thought  the  girl.  "  I 
counted  her  inside  that  circle  too  soon." 

"  Don't  you  mind  her,"  the  other  aunt  consoled  her. 
"  She's  had  so  much  trouble  that  she's  a  little  sour  some- 
times." 

"  Then  for  heaven's  sake  why  doesn't  she  put  an  end  to 
her  trouble  and  act  like  a  human  being  ?  " 

"  Sarah,"  spoke  up  the  old  man,  "  mebbe  Sybilla  and  I 
are  a  little  too  hard  on  you  but  I  guess  we  don't  have  the 
knack  of  handlin'  young  people.  We're  set  in  our  ways, 
but  I  think  we  are  a  little  better  than  we  used  to  be  since 
you  came." 

"  Grandpap,  then  you  do  like  to  have  me  here  ? " 

"  Now,  ain't  I  told  you  that  long  a' ready !  You're  get- 
tin'  short-minded  and  you  ain't  near  so  old  as  I  am  yet." 

Sarah  smiled.  She  knew  that  in  spite  of  curiosity 
about  the  money  the  man  trusted  her.  She  was  dubious 
about  Aunt  Sybilla's  trust  in  her.  That  determined  per- 
son would  try  to  worm  out  of  the  girl  the  secret  of  the 
money.  Sarah  set  her  lips — wild  horses  could  not  drag  it 
from  her! 

Aunt  Sybilla  said  nothing  more  about  the  matter  for 
several  days,  greatly  to  the  relief  of  the  girl.  She  wanted 
her  Christmas  to  be  unspoiled  by  nagging  or  lack  of  har- 
mony. It  was  her  first  one  in  a  real  home  and  at  the 
thought  little  thrills  ran  and  cavorted  in  her  heart.  She 
regretted  that  she  was  too  old  for  the  delights  of  a  tree 
and  a  mysterious  Santa  Claus  but,  nevertheless,  there  re- 
mained sufficient  cause  for  happiness.  She  would  have 
the  pleasure  of  giving  gifts  to  her  family ! 


SUSPICION  293 

Three  days  before  Christmas  she  said  to  the  aunts, 
"  Oh,  I  can  hardly  wait  for  the  day !  I'm  sorry  I'm  not 
little  enough  to  believe  in  Santa  and  hang  up  my  stock- 
ing." 

"  Santa  Claus !  "  Aunt  Sybilla  said  the  name  as  though 
it  had  some  evil  significance.  "  We  don't  learn  our  chil- 
dren such  lies ! " 

"  Oh,  you  mean  you  never  believed  in  Santa  Claus  ?  " 

"  No,  be  sure  not !  There  ain't  any  such  person.  What 
for  should  we  tell  children  there  is  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  but  it  seems  to  me  there  is  a  Santa 
Claus,  lots  of  them.  They  may  not  always  come  down 
the  chimney  but  there  are  some  in  the  world.  Don't  you 
believe  in  fairies,  either  ?  " 

"  What  for  ?  Spooks  and  such  things  are  heathen  and 
not  fit  for  Christian  people  to  believe  in." 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Sybilla,  but  I  do  feel  sorry  for  you ! " 

The  words  rang  so  truthfully  that  the  woman  turned 
from  her  work  to  look  at  the  girl.  "  Sorry  for  me!  Me, 
with  such  a  good  home  and  everything  I  need  or  want !  " 

"And  not  one  snitch  of  romance  or  real  fun  in  your 
make-up !  Can't  you  see  anything  more  than  a  flower  in 
the  red  geraniums  you  have  in  the  front  room  now  ?  " 

"  What  else  could  abody  see  but  geraniums  ?  " 

"  Why,"  Sarah  laughed,  "  every  time  I  go  into  that 
room  I  talk  to  them.  They  seem  like  little  fairies  danc- 
ing round  a  fire  on  a  cold  night." 

"  Are  you  ferhexed,  or  what?  " 

Mary  laughed.  "  Guess  me  and  Sarah's  alike  in  some 
ways  then,  for  pansies  always  look  like  little  old  ladies  in 
caps  when  I  look  at  them,  and  the  sweet  alyssum  makes 
me  think  of  clean  white  babies." 

"Ach,  my  goodness!    You  two  must  be  funny  in  the 


1294        THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

heads !  It  wonders  me  how  you  can  think  of  such  dumb 
things."  She  looked  worried  about  the  evident  degenera- 
tion of  her  close  kin. 

"  I'm  going  over  to  the  rector's  to  borrow  a  book,"  said 
Sarah.  "  I  need  something  to  read  to  keep  me  from  fid- 
geting while  I  wait  for  Christmas.  I  saw  him  go  up- 
town and  I'll  hurry  and  get  one  from  the  housekeeper 
before  he  comes  back." 

"All  right,"  said  Aunt  Sybilla.  As  she  looked  after  the 
girl  she  thought,  "  Something  ails  that  girl !  She  acts  too 
dumb!  I  just  wish  I  could  find  out  where  them  fifty 
dollars  went ! " 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  CARDINAL  FLOWER 

SARAH  found  the  rector  out  as  she  had  anticipated. 
The  old  housekeeper  told  her  to  walk  into  the  front  room 
where  the  books  were  and  help  herself. 

The  array  of  long  shelves,  such  prodigal  wealth  of  lit- 
erature, placed  her  in  the  quandary  of  a  child  who  is  asked 
to  choose  one  toy  from  a  tempting  assortment.  She  drew 
out  a  book  and  found,  tucked  at  the  back  of  the  shelf  and 
apparently  hidden,  a  small  leather-bound  copy  of  Son- 
nets from  the  Portuguese.  It  was  well  worn  and  the 
pages  opened — her  heart  thumped  and  throbbed!  The 
red  cardinal  flower  she  had  picked  at  Mount  Gretna  and 
given  to  the  rector  lay  in  the  book,  pressed  and  beautiful 
even  though  dead.  She  turned  it  over  and  her  glance 
was  held  by  the  sonnet  on  that  page.  It  was  a  much-pen- 
ciled, underlined  sonnet  and  the  words  of  it  sprang  up  to 
meet  her  eyes : 

"  Go  from  me.    Yet  I  feel  that  I  shall  stand 

Henceforward  in  thy  shadow 

The  widest  land 

Doom  takes  to  part  us  leaves  thy  heart  in  mine 
With  pulses  that  beat  double.     What  I  do 
And  what  I  dream  include  thee,  as  the  wine 
Must  taste  of  its  own  grapes.    And  when  I  sue 
God  for  myself,  He  hears  the  name  of  thine, 
And  sees  within  my  eyes  the  tears  of  two." 


296    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

And  underneath  the  last  line  was  written  in  the  rector's 
hand  the  exclamation,  "  My  Madonna  of  the  Curb,  how 
can  I  let  you  go  ?  " 

Sarah  closed  the  book  and  thrust  it  back  to  its  hiding- 
place,  a  feeling  of  panic  in  her  heart.  What  had  she 
done?  Whom  did  he  mean?  Ah,  she  remembered  that 
he  had  once  called  her  "  The  Madonna  of  the  Curb ! " 
Was  it  true,  did  he  mean  her?  Then  why  the  words, 
"  How  can  I  let  you  go  ?  " — what  did  they  mean  ?  Did 
he  feel  that  way  about  her — oh,  it  could  not  be !  Surely 
it  was  some  dream,  some  wild  flight  of  her  impulsive 
Irish  imagination !  How  dared  she  harbor  the  thought  ? 
He  could  not  have  meant  her !  Yet  there  lay  the  scarlet 
flower,  pressed  and  kept,  like  a  very  heart  of  love  against 
the  words  of  the  sonnet.  With  trembling  fingers  she  took 
from  the  shelf  a  volume  of  Stevenson  and  tried  to  still 
her  hammering  heart  by  reading  the  words  of  the  gentle 
invalid.  Those  pages,  too,  were  lined  and  marked.  It 
was  evident  that  the  author  was  a  favorite  with  the  rec- 
tor. Sarah  turned  over  the  pages,  culling  here  a  helpful 
expression,  finding  there  a  new  setting  for  an  old  thought. 
Her  eyes  fell  on  a  marked  paragraph.  "A  happy  man  or 
woman  is  a  better  thing  to  find  than  a  five-pound  note. 
He  or  she  is  a  radiating  focus  of  good-will;  and  their  en- 
trance into  a  room  is  as  though  another  candle  had  been 
lighted.  We  need  not  care  whether  they  could  prove  the 
forty-seventh  proposition;  they  do  a  better  thing  than 
that,  they  practically  demonstrate  the  great  Theorem  of 
the  Liveableness  of  Life." 

She  turned  at  a  sound  and  the  rector  stood  in  the  room. 

"  Good-evening,"  he  said.  "  I  am  sorry  that  on  the 
rare  occasions  you  honor  my  house  with  a  visit  I  am  out." 

"  But  I  came  for  a  book,  not  to  see  you."     Then  her 


THE  CARDINAL  FLOWER  297 

face  flushed  at  the  seeming  unkindness.  "  I  mean — I 
really  did  come  for  a  book." 

"  Yes,  I  understand,"  he  replied  gravely,  his  eyes  belie- 
ing  the  gravity  of  his  voice.  "  Don't  run  away,  please. 
I  haven't  seen  you  for  some  time.  It's  perfectly  proper, 
you  know.  The  housekeeper  is  old  enough  to  qualify  for 
chaperone  and  the  shades  are  all  up  so  the  world  can  see 
you  here  and  wonder  what  trouble  you  have  encountered 
to  make  you  seek  the  rectory  for  counsel." 

"  You're  foolish  to-night,"  she  told  him,  but  her  man- 
ner implied  that  she  liked  his  rare  moods  of  flippancy. 

"  What  were  you  reading  ?     Find  anything  good  ?  " 

"  This."     She  held  up  Stevenson. 

"  I  like  Robert  Louis,  he's  an  old  favorite  of  mine.  As 
a  child  I  heard  his  verses  read  by  my  mother  and  I  have 
never  lost  my  love  for  him.  It's  a  blessing  to  look  back 
to  those  years  and  remember  my  mother  reading " 

He  looked  up  suddenly  and  was  shocked  by  the  pale, 
twitching  face  of  the  visitor. 

"  Sarah !  Forgive  me !  That  was  thoughtless  of  me ! 
I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  you.  I  wouldn't  have  done  that  for 
worlds ! " 

"  Oh,  don't  mind  me,"  she  smiled  then.  "  I'm  just  a 
little  sore  on  the  point  of  what  I  lost  when  I  lost  my 
mother.  You'd  think  I  should  be  calloused  by  this  time 
but  when  you  spoke  a  moment  ago  it  made  me  feel  the  old 
hurt.  Go  on,  please  tell  me  about  your  mother.  I'm  not 
such  a  dog-in-the-manger  that  I  can't  enjoy  hearing  about 
other  people's  happiness  and  memories  of  a  happy  child- 
hood." 

"  You  really  want  to  hear  ?  "  He  regarded  her.  How 
mature  she  looked  then  with  that  serious  expression  on 
her  face,  how  changed  from  the  almost  hoydenish  hilarity 


298    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

that  so  often  moved  her.  Fool,  fool  that  he  had  been  to 
let  her  slip  into  the  keeping  of  namby-pamby  Dan  Roth  1 
She  never  guessed  what  thoughts  raced  back  of  the  man's 
glowing  eyes  as  he  looked  into  hers  and  began  to  describe 
some  of  the  pictures  of  his  memory. 

"  I  have  many  happy  memories  and  I  want  to  share 
them  with  you.  It  is  strange  how  the  strains  of  an  old 
song,  the  inflection  of  a  voice,  the  shimmer  of  a  bird's 
wings,  the  utterance  of  a  word,  lifts  the  veil  of  long  years 
and  you  stand  thrilled  at  the  memory  of  other  days.  You 
look  down  the  vista  of  the  long  road  over  which  you  have 
traveled,  and  though  much  of  it  is  shrouded  in  darkness, 
there  are  many  scenes  that  stand  out  in  vivid  relief. 

"  The  phrase  '  white  violets '  brings  to  your  mental 
eyes  a  bed  of  them  nestling  in  the  grass.  You  see  the 
children,  yourself  among  them,  crouching  upon  the  earth 
to  gather  them,  you  feel  the  perfume  in  your  nostrils, 
though  you  have  not  seen  white  violets  in  many  years. 

"  Close  to  that  picture  is  another  of  marvelous  bright- 
ness, though  the  setting  is  twilight.  The  background  is 
the  favorite  room  in  your  childhood's  home,  the  sitting- 
room,  where  in  summer-time  the  robins'  songs  floated  in 
through  the  open  windows,  where  in  winter  days  the  fire 
burned  brightest  in  the  big  stove.  Now  it  is  twilight,  the 
day's  play  is  over,  the  toys  neatly  piled  into  their  corner, 
and  bedtime  is  come.  You  climb  into  mother's  lap  as  she 
sits  in  the  big  rocker,  that  old-fashioned  rocker  with  the 
roses  painted  upon  its  back  and  the  broad  arms  which 
make  it  comfortable  for  a  little  fellow  to  be  held  there. 
But  you  are  not  thinking  of  the  roses  as  you  climb  into 
mother's  lap.  You  want  cuddling  and  loving  and  a  song. 
But  the  mother  hesitates — if  she  sings  to  you  she  knows 
you'll  fall  asleep  and  you  are  growing  too  heavy  to  carry 


THE  CARDINAL  FLOWER  290 

to  bed.  But  you  see  leniency  in  her  eyes  and  beg  for  one 
song,  just  one,  while  you  promise  to  surely  keep  wide 
awake.  So  she  gathers  you  close  and  sings  your  favorite. 
In  after  years  you  wonder  why  it  was  your  favorite,  that 
simple  old  song,  '  Whiter  Than  Snow.'  But  as  she  sings 
it  is  unspeakably  sweet.  You  look  up  into  the  face  whose 
loveliness  has  been  unmatched  in  all  the  years  since  and 
listen  to  each  word  as  it  falls  from  her  lips  until — the 
same  old  drowsiness  creeps  over  you  and  you  do  not  hear 
the  ending.  So  the  dear,  tired  mother  carries  you  once 
more  to  bed  and  you  do  not  feel  the  kiss  she  gives  you 
before  she  carries  away  the  light.  A  wonderful  picture 
that !  More  worthy  of  preservation  than  any  Old  Master 
of  fabulous  price! 

"  There  is  another  that  has  shadows  in  it,  very  vague 
in  parts,  fearfully  realistic  in  others.  You  are  ill,  seri- 
ously ill,  and  you  lie  in  the  huge  four-poster  bed  for  many 
weary  days  and  nights.  You  are  so  uncomfortable,  you 
can't  swallow,  you  can't  lift  your  head  for  it  throbs  and 
burns.  The  days  go  slowly  but  the  nights — how  long  they 
are!  You  toss  and  moan,  you  try  to  watch  the  shaded 
lamp  on  the  high  old  bureau  or  trace  the  pictures  on  the 
old  clock's  glass  doors,  then  you  turn  your  face  to  the 
wall  and  try  to  sleep.  But  something  is  all  wrong  with 
your  throat,  your  head  is  too  hot — you  utter  a  piteous 
moan.  Then  the  mother,  who  had  sat  by  your  bed  so 
long — it  must  be  years  according  to  your  calculation — 
places  her  cool  hand  upon  your  forehead,  rearranges  your 
pillows  and  says  gently,  '  My  poor  lamb,  go  to  sleep.' 
Presently,  soothed  by  that  touch,  you  do  sleep.  You 
waken  often  and  always  she  is  there  to  hush  you  to  slum- 
ber again.  As  you  look  at  that  picture  through  memory's 
lifted  veil  you  wonder  how,  after  those  long  vigils  for 


300    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

you,  you  could  ever  wilfully  grieve  her  and  you  sigh  at 
your  own  unworthiness. 

"  Farther  along  the  road  is  another  picture,  one  painted 
in  bright  colors  and  splashes  of  sunshine.  It  is  your  first 
look  at  the  great  ocean.  You  feel  so  important  as  you 
take  the  trip  with  a  kind,  indulgent  father.  You  had 
wondered  on  the  train  whether  the  ocean  could  be  much 
bigger  than  your  pond  at  home.  When  you  see  it  you 
are  staggered,  speechless  for  a  moment,  then  with  childish 
loyalty  to  home  you  exclaim,  '  Why,  it  slops  up  just  like 
our  pond ! '  You  wonder  why  father  laughs  and  later, 
when  he  repeats  it  to  the  home  folks,  you  resent  the  mer- 
riment it  provokes.  That  sea — how  much  bigger  and 
bluer  it  is  than  you  have  ever  seen  it  since!  The  big 
waves  thrill  you  as  they  break  on  the  shore  in  misty  white 
foam ;  in  your  childish  imagination  you  can  look  across  it 
and  see  the  country  that  lies  beyond." 

He  sat  dreamy-eyed,  as  though  living  once  more  those 
happy  days  of  his  childhood.  Sarah  broke  into  his  retro- 
spection. 

"  I  hope  you  are  properly  thankful  for  such  memories. 
But  I  know  you  are ! "  She  veered  suddenly  from  his 
pictures  to  her  own,  as  though  fearing  to  trust  her  own 
powers  of  control.  "  I  want  you  to  know  that  if  I  did 
miss  what  you  had  I'm  happy  now." 

"  Perfectly  happy  ?  " 

"  Well — I  suppose  such  a  thing  as  perfect  happiness  is 
not  for  mortals  to  know.  But  I'm  almost  in  that  state 
since  I've  found  my  people." 

"  I'm  glad." 

"  Of  course  you  are.  And  didn't  you  help  me  ?  It 
was  you  first  made  me  perk  up  when  I  cried  in  the  cherry 
tree.  I  have  drawn  part  of  that  enormous  circle  already. 


THE  CARDINAL  FLOWER  301 

The  girls  are  nice  to  me,  even  Mrs.  Roth  has  buried  the 
old  hatchet " 

Her  face  flushed  at  the  remembrance  of  the  incident  in 
the  Roth  home,  the  burning  of  the  check.  But  the  man 
looked  at  her  and  misunderstood  the  flush.  His  heart 
sank  a  little  lower.  He  prided  himself  upon  his  powers 
of  deduction.  Sarah  and  Dan  did  care  for  each  other ! 

"  Imagine ! "  went  on  the  girl,  "  Mrs.  Roth  says  now 
that  she  is  glad  I  came  to  Fair  view ! " 

"  That  is  a  conquest.  I  might  as  well  tell  you  she  told 
me  you  are  the  sweetest,  finest  girl  in  town." 

"  Glory !  I  did  drag  her  into  that  circle !  With  her  on 
my  side  my  ears  won't  burn  so  often."  She  threw  back 
her  head  and  laughed  one  of  her  gay,  rippling  laughs  that 
had  so  thrilled  him  before.  Often  he  had  heard  the 
merry  sound  come  into  his  home  and  paused  in  his  read- 
ing or  writing  to  enjoy  the  fresh  naturalness  of  it. 

"  Then  you  are  happy  now — well,  I'm  glad,  more  glad 
than  I  can  tell  you !  If  ever  a  mortal  was  meant  for  joy 
it  is  you !  " 

"Are  not  all  mortals  *  born  to  trouble  as  the  sparks  fly 
upward'?"  she  asked. 

"  Yes.  But  I  warrant  you'd  see  something  to  be  glad 
about  no  matter  how  much  trouble  came  to  you." 

"  So  I  should.  I  think  I'd  never  be  down  so  low  that  I 
couldn't  look  up." 

"  Good !  I  hope  your  happiness  will  keep  on  growing. 
You  deserve  it.  I  wish  I  could  make  you  perfectly  happy, 
give  you  what  you  want " 

"  Oh,  don't ! "  She  rose  from  her  chair,  the  words  of 
the  marked  sonnet  burning  into  her  brain.  She  turned 
her  back  to  him  and  stood  before  the  bookcase  as  if  read- 
ing the  titles.  Something  new  and  delightful  pulsed 


302   THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

through  her.  What  was  it?  That  tingling  rush  in  her 
fingers !  Was  it  love  ?  Why  that  precipitate  withdraw- 
ing from  his  gaze  ?  It  seemed  a  long  time  she  stood  with 
her  back  to  him,  then  she  turned  and  walked  back  to  her 
chair.  He  saw  that  some  change  had  taken  place,  that 
she  was  lovelier  than  ever.  Her  eyes  looked  fearlessly 
into  his  as  she  said,  "  You  see  I  came  back." 

"  I  knew  you  would.  Why  did  you  run  away  ?  What 
had  I  done?" 

"  You  ?    Oh,  you  didn't  do  anything." 

"  But  you  ran  from  me  as  you  ran  from  Dan  last  sum- 
mer." 

"  No,  oh,  no !  Not  like  that !  That  time  I  ran  from 
Dan,  this  time  from  myself.  Were  you  ever  afraid  of 
yourself,  Mr.  Preacher?" 

"  Many  times." 

She  avoided  his  eyes  as  he  spoke,  but  he  could  see  the 
lambent  fires  of  hers. 

"  Doesn't  it  beat  the  dickens,  this  growing  up  busi- 
ness !  "  She  said  it  seriously  yet  she  looked  so  bewil- 
dered that  the  man  laughed.  Then  as  she  studied  the 
back  of  the  Stevenson  book  he  looked  at  her.  What  a 
child  she  was  and,  paradoxical,  what  a  woman!  She 
would  give  with  the  generousness  of  a  child,  yet  could 
withhold  with  the  measuring  of  a  woman.  He  closed  his 
eyes  a  moment  as  though  he  stood  before  an  unveiled 
sanctuary  which  he  had  no  right  to  behold. 

She  brought  him  back  to  earth.  "  You  told  me  of  your 
memories  of  childhood,  now  let  me  tell  you  mine.  Don't 
you  think  I  haven't  any !  "  Her  expression  told  him  she 
was  trying  to  be  flippant  to  suppress  her  pangs  of  regret 
for  what  she  had  missed. 

"  Let  me  hear  about  them,"  he  urged. 


THE  CARDINAL  FLOWER  303 

"Well,  once  when  I  was  about  nine  there  was  a  big 
wedding  in  the  fashionable  church  around  on  Fourth 
Street  not  very  far  from  Red  Rose  Court.  A  whole  gang 
of  us  went.  Invited?  No!  We  sneaked  in,  watched 
our  chance  and  got  through  past  the  swells  in  stiff  shirts. 
It  was  great!  All  the  ladies  in  evening  dress  took  my 
time.  I  was  just  a  ragged  youngster  from  Red  Rose 
Court  but  I  was  shocked  by  the  little  they  wore  and  got 
away  with  it.  Since  then  I've  seen  worse  and  sometimes 
it  makes  me  think  of  Kipling's  Gunga  Din.  You  remem- 
ber: 

"  '  The  uniform  he  wore 
Was  nothin'  much  before, 
An'  rather  less  than  'arf  o'  that  be'ind.' " 

He  laughed  heartily.  "  You  are  clever  to  think  of 
that!  But  if  those  grand  ladies  who  wear  the  evening 
gowns  heard  you  I  fancy  they  wouldn't  relish  having  the 
creations  compared  to  any  '  twisty  piece  of  rag.'  " 

"  But  that  isn't  the  only  glimpse  I  got  into  high  society, 
please,  sir.  One  night  we  were  wandering  about  in  one 
of  the  exclusive  sections  of  the  aristocrats  when  a  dinner 
party  was  in  progress.  We  boosted  each  other  up  at  a 
side  window  to  look  into  the  dining-room.  Say,  there 
was  enough  silver  on  the  table  to  perform  an  operation ! 
And  flowers!  I  thought  at  first  somebody  was  dead! 
Just  as  I  had  my  look-in  a  cop  came  along  and  we  ran 
like  rabbits.  Bet  he  never  had  a  chance  to  count  how 
many  there  were  of  us.  When  I  think  of  the  harum- 
scarum  piece  of  humanity  I  was  I  feel  sorry  for  Miss 
Hughes.  I'm  everlastingly  indebted  to  her.  She's  a 
darling,  the  best  person  I  know,  barring  none." 

"  Rather  hard  on  present  company." 


304    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

"  Well,  you  might  be  almost  as  good." 

"  That's  a  concession.  Thank  you.  I'll  have  to  stretch 
my  soul  and  try  to  rival  that  wonderful  Miss  Hughes." 

"  Well,  I  don't  think  you'll  have  to  go  so  awful  far  to 
catch  up,  at  any  rate,  to  get  within  sight  of  her !  " 

They  laughed  together.  Then  she  rose,  the  volume  of 
Stevenson  in  her  hand.  "  May  I  take  this  ?  " 

"  Help  yourself.  Read  the  chapter  on  El  Dorado. 
There  are  many  things  in  that  I'm  sure  you'll  like." 

After  she  left  the  man  sat  with  his  books,  but  not  read- 
ing any  of  them.  The  room  seemed  suddenly  dim.  He 
paraphrased  Stevenson  and  thought  her  going  from  a 
room  was  as  if  all  the  candles  had  been  extinguished. 


THE  CLOUDS  ROLLED  AWAY 

AUNT  SYBILLA  had  not  forgotten  the  mysterious  lend- 
ing of  Sarah's  fifty  dollars.  The  more  she  thought  of  it 
the  more  eager  she  became  to  solve  the  riddle.  She  was 
thinking  about  it  two  days  before  Christmas  as  she 
cleaned  Sarah's  room  while  the  girl  was  at  the  store. 

"  Fifty  dollars  loaned  away  and  she  won't  do  it  to  tell 
to  who !  I  don't  like  them  sneaky  ways.  Mebbe,  for  all, 
she's  goin'  to  give  us  trouble.  That  mom  she  had  wasn't 
the  right  kind.  Such  badness  comes  out  in  the  children, 
it  got  to,  it  just  got  to !  Sarah  said  she  got  some  pictures 
of  Miss  Hughes  I'm  to  see  once  when  I  got  time.  Mebbe 
they  are  in  her  drawer.  I'll  look  once." 

She  opened  the  bureau  drawer.  On  the  top  of  a  stack 
of  letters  lay  the  paper  Dan  had  written  in  preparation 
for  the  forgery. 

"  What  in  the  world ! "  she  snapped.  "  Pop's  name 
wrote  all  over  like  some  one  was  tryin'  to  do  it  like  him ! 
My  goodness ! "  She  opened  and  closed  her  mouth. 
"  My  goodness !  Ach,  she  wouldn't  do  that !  But 

what "  She  stared  at  the  paper,  her  brain  trying  to 

solve  the  significance  of  it.  Finally  she  came  to  the  natu- 
ral conclusion  that  Sarah  had  written  the  paper  and  for 
no  other  purpose  than  to  use  the  grandfather's  name  for 
some  illegal  purpose.  The  woman's  face  hardened.  She 


306    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

decided  to  confront  the  girl  with  the  incriminating  paper 
and  demand  an  explanation. 

The  first  opportunity  came  at  the  dinner  table.  As 
soon  as  the  four  were  seated  there  Aunt  Sybilla  produced 
the  paper  and  held  it  to  the  girl.  "  Here,  what  does  this 
mean  ?  " 

"What?"  But  she  recognized  the  import  of  the  in- 
terrogation. 

"Ach,  you  know  good  enough  what !  I  found  it  in  your 
drawer  when  I  looked  in  for  them  pictures  you  talked 
about." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  Aunt  Mary. 

"  Who  wrote  this  ?  "  demanded  Jeremiah  Burkhart  as 
his  daughter  handed  the  paper  to  him.  He  looked  to  the 
girl  for  an  answer,  but  she  shook  her  head  and  her  lips 
were  hard  as  she  told  him  she  could  not  tell  him  that. 

"  Just  what  I  thought !  "  Aunt  Sybilla  had  the  air  of  a 
prophet  who  sees  his  prophecies  verified.  "  Who  wrote 
that  ?  "  she  asked  Sarah.  "  I  want  to  know  who  did." 

"  I  can't  tell  you." 

"  Well,"  compromised  the  old  man,  "  tell  us  if  you  did 
or  somebody  else." 

"  I  can't  tell  you  that  much  even."  The  agonizing  bit- 
terness of  being  suspected  tempted  her  to  divulge  the  real 
author  of  the  paper,  but  something  stronger  than  her 
temptation  held  her  back.  What  would  it  profit  her  peo- 
ple to  know  and  how  much  harm  it  might  do  the  boy! 
She  was  convinced  that  Dan  was  trying  his  best  to  go 
straight,  that  he  had  learned  his  lesson  and  was  keeping 
that  promise  to  her.  She  couldn't  expose  him  to  stave 
off  a  bit  of  unpleasantness  from  herself.  Her  grandfa- 
ther might  discharge  him,  the  news  of  the  crime  might  be 
spread  and  the  whole  future  of  the  foolish  lad  be  jeopard- 


THE  CLOUDS  ROLLED  AWAY          307 

ized  because  of  that  one  fall  which  he  so  sincerely  re- 
gretted. 

"  I  can't  tell  you  anything  about  it,"  she  said  with  a 
tone  of  finality. 

"  Then  I  guess  you  done  it  yourself  and  was  gettin' 
ready  to  forge  checks  on  your  grandpap ! "  pronounced 
Sybilla. 

Her  words  brought  a  protest  from  the  other  aunt. 
"  Sybilla,  be  careful !  That  ain't  a  little  thing  to  say 
about  abody ! " 

"  Well,  if  she  ain't  guilty  why  can't  she  say  so?  Why 
does  she  act  dumb  for,  like  she  didn't  know  who  done  it 
nor  why  ?  What  do  you  do  with  your  money,  anyhow  ?  " 
she  demanded  of  the  girl.  "  First  you  borrow  out  fifty 
dollars  and  can't  tell  who  to,  then  you  try  to  forge  checks 
• — what  do  you  do  with  the  money  ?  Do  you  gamble  it,  or 
what?" 

If  the  matter  had  not  been  so  serious  Sarah  would  have 
indulged  in  a  gale  of  laughter  at  the  utter  ridiculousness 
of  the  question.  But  she  was  in  no  mood  for  laughter. 
She  bit  her  lips  to  keep  back  the  tears. 

"  Why  can't  you  tell  ?  "  insisted  the  old  grandfather,  to 
whom  the  strange  conduct  of  the  girl  was  a  painful  ex- 
perience. "  I  trust  you  and  I  felt  so  sure  you  would  be 
a  girl  to  do  the  right " 

"  But  look  at  her  mom  and  her  pop !  "  Sybilla  reminded 
him. 

Sarah  sprang  to  her  feet.  "Aunt  Sybilla,  don't  you 
dare  talk  like  that  about  them !  My  mother  never  stole  a 
penny  in  her  life !  For  all  her  dancing  she  would  never 
have  taken  the  name  of  an  innocent  person  and  dragged  it 
in  the  dirt !  My  mother  was  noble  and  she  had  a  heart !  " 

Sobs  were  in  her  voice  and  an  ominous  moisture  in  her 


308    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

eyes  but  she  steadied  her  lips  and  went  on,  "  I  guess  my 
father — well,  he  was  ray  father,  but  he  was  also  your 
brother!  When  it  comes  to  throwing  dirt  I  can  sling  a 
little  as  well  as  you  can."  She  narrowed  her  eyes  as  she 
used  to  do  long  ago  in  Red  Rose  Court  when  she  called 
some  bully  to  account. 

But  Aunt  Sybilla  was  not  easily  intimidated.  "  Well," 
she  said  curtly,  "  if  you  don't  want  people  to  think  bad  of 
you  then  don't  be  sneaky.  What  else  can  that  paper 
mean  but  that  you  was  tryin'  to  write  like  pop,  and  what 
for?" 

Sarah  could  stand  no  more.  She  ran  from  the  room, 
up-stairs  to  the  white  bed  whose  immaculate  counterpane 
had  so  pleased  her  and  there,  with  her  face  buried  in  its 
roses,  she  sobbed  out  her  pain. 

To  be  suspected,  even  in  the  face  of  circumstantial  evi- 
dence, not  to  be  trusted,  hurt  her  more  than  anything  had 
ever  done  before. 

"  They  think  I'm  a  thief,  stealing  from  my  own  grand- 
father after  I'm  living  in  his  house,  earning  money  in  his 
store — how  can  they  think  that?  I'll  never  forget  the 
shame  of  it!  If  they  had  struck  me  it  would  be  less 
painful.  To  think  me  a  thief " 

"  Sarah !  "  A  gentle  voice  called  her  and  a  cool  hand 
was  placed  on  her  hot  head.  Aunt  Mary  sat  down  beside 
the  bed.  "  Come,  Sarah,  you  mustn't  mind  how  Sybilla 
talks.  She's  quick  and  says  too  much  once  in  a  while. 
Pop  just  said  to  us  he  don't  think  you  would  do  anything 
like  that.  I  told  him  I  know  you  wouldn't." 

"You  don't  think  I'm  a  thief?"  She  turned  her 
swollen  face  to  the  white-capped  woman. 

"  Sarah,  I  know  you  are  not !  Just  because  things  are 
mysteries  don't  say  they  must  be  bad." 


THE  CLOUDS  ROLLED  AWAY          309 

Sarah  sat  up.  "  If  I  live  to  be  a  hundred  I'll  remember 
that  you  had  faith  in  me  when  things  looked  black  against 
me." 

"  Come  down  now  and  finish  your  dinner.  It's  too  bad 
Sybilla  didn't  wait  to  make  a  fuss  till  you  eat  your  snitz 
pie  when  you  like  them  so !  Come  down  and  eat." 

"  I  couldn't  swallow  a  bite ! " 

"  Now  ain't  that  too  bad  of  Sybilla  ?  But  you  mustn't 
be  too  hard  on  her  for  she  has  so  much  trouble." 

"  Trouble !  I'm  thinking  that  Jake  is  mighty  lucky  she 
did  turn  him  down !  " 

"  Now,  now !  Sybilla's  all  right.  She'd  make  Jake  a 
good  wife." 

Sarah  refrained  from  further  expression  of  her  opinion 
just  then  for  she  knew  it  would  hurt  the  gentle  woman 
who  had  borne  heavy  burdens  cheerfully  and  yet  saw  ex- 
cuse for  those  who  sank  under  theirs. 

When  she  returned  to  work  her  reddened  eyes  sur- 
prised Dan. 

"What's  wrong?  Anything  I  can  help?"  He  was 
considerate  and  gentlemanly  in  his  attitude  to  her  since 
that  day  of  her  magnanimous  action  to  him;  his  whole 
bearing  in  her  presence  spelled  gratitude  and  a  determina- 
tion to  prove  worthy  of  her  kindness. 

"  No,  Dan,  nothing  you  can  help." 

"Ah,  that's  rotten!  I  wish  I  could  do  something  to 
show  how  much  I  appreciate " 

She  held  up  a  silencing  finger.  "  Then  don't  talk  about 
it,  please.  That's  the  best  way  to  show  me."  She  smiled 
at  him  and  bent  over  her  work  and  he  could  not  guess 
how  heavy  was  the  heart  she  bore.  All  through  the  long 
afternoon,  with  its  press  of  work,  the  thought  haunted 
her — they  think  I'm  a  criminal!  Like  claps  of  thunder 


310    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

the  dire  words  rang  in  her  ears  so  that  her  hands  trem- 
bled and  tears  blurred  the  pages  she  was  trying  to  fill. 
Her  tortured  brain  was  trying  to  look  into  the  future — 
how  could  she  live  through  years  of  mistrust?  Would 
she  ever  be  happy  again?  Would  she  had  never  found 
her  people  if  they  had  no  faith  in  her.  Miss  Hughes 
would  have  understood.  She  would  have  trusted  and 
said,  "  Dear  child,  it  looks  bad  on  the  surface  but  I'll 
trust  you  until  you  can  explain  the  clouds  away."  But 
then  Miss  Hughes  was  like  that,  so  understanding,  so 
broad-minded  she  could  see  the  good  in  people  though 
they  were  covered  with  the  very  slime  of  sin.  One  thing 
she  would  remember,  Aunt  Mary  was  like  Miss  Hughes. 

When  supper-time  came  Sarah  rose  reluctantly.  She 
would  rather  have  faced  a  company  of  ferocious  animals 
than  submit  to  another  tirade  from  Aunt  Sybilla.  But 
Aunt  Mary  had  evidently  implored  the  sister  to  refrain 
from  further  questioning,  for  the  evening  meal  brought 
no  renewal  of  the  dreaded  subject.  Aunt  Mary  talked  and 
smiled,  grandfather  hid  valiantly  his  uncertainty  about 
the  girl  and  Aunt  Sybilla  sat  silent  and  grim.  Sarah  felt 
the  iron  about  her  neck  growing  heavier  each  minute.  A 
life  like  that  would  soon  be  intolerable,  or  did  one  become 
accustomed  to  it  in  time  and  accept  it  with  apathy  or 
stoicism  ? 

She  went  to  her  room  early  that  night,  pleading  a  few 
last  gifts  to  be  tied  up  in  festive  ribbons.  As  she  went 
she  thought  of  the  farcical  task  of  tying  gifts,  adding  gay 
cards  with  gay  messages  when  her  heart  was  so  heavy. 
Tears  fell  on  the  white  tissue  paper  until  the  blistered 
surface  told  her  it  would  never  do.  She  sat  for  a  long 
time  and  thought  over  the  matter.  Would  it  have  been 
better  to  shield  herself  and  let  Dan  look  out  for  himself  ? 


THE  CLOUDS  ROLLED  AWAY          311 

He  had  been  headed  for  destruction ;  she  had  turned  him 
to  a  better  path,  and  this  was  what  she  got  for  it !  She 
was  a  fool  to  meddle  with  his  affairs !  Did  it  pay  to  do 
good  ?  She  laughed  a  cynical  laugh  as  she  thought  of  the 
old  saying  that  virtue  is  its  own  reward — some  reward 
she  was  getting  out  of  it!  For  the  first  time  in  her  life 
the  child  who  had  come  from  Red  Rose  Court  and  Sunset 
Mountain  to  live  in  Fairview  cried  herself  to  sleep.  She 
thought  of  her  first  Christmas  at  home,  her  dreams  about 
it,  her  plans,  and  it  was  all  dead  sea  fruit,  ashes  and  dust, 
bitter  gall. 

When  she  woke  her  misery  was  still  with  her.  She  lay 
wide-eyed,  thinking,  thinking!  If  she  could  stop  her 
brain  from  whirling  and  her  heart  from  aching !  In  her 
extremity  she  thought  of  the  rector  next  door  and  won- 
dered dully  whether  he  would  trust  her  if  he  knew.  How 
she  wished  she  could  fly  to  him  for  comfort.  Was  it  just 
two  nights  ago  they  had  joked  about  her  seeking  consola- 
tion in  the  rectory? — it  seemed  like  aeons  ago.  She  had 
said  so  glibly  to  him  that  she  would  never  be  down  so  low 
that  she  couldn't  look  up — what  an  easy  assertion  to 
make,  a  harder  one  to  carry  out ! 

At  breakfast  Aunt  Sybilla  did  not  allude  to  the  mat- 
ter, but  her  manner,  her  very  silence,  spoke  eloquently 
that  she  still  remembered  it  and  wanted  to  know  the 
truth. 

However,  when  noon  came  and  they  were  seated  about 
the  table  her  desire  to  fathom  the  mystery  was  too  strong 
to  permit  silence. 

"  Sarah,  ain't  you  ready  to  tell  yet  about  that  paper  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"  No ! " 

"Well,  I  won't  rest  in  my  grave  till  I  know  if  you 


312    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

wrote  it  and  if  you  was  goin'  to  forge  your  grandpap's 
name." 

In  her  excitement  her  voice  became  shrill  and  every 
word  fell  distinctly  upon  the  ears  of  Mrs.  Roth,  who  had 
come  round  the  back  way  and  stood  at  the  kitchen  door 
ready  to  enter  as  the  words  fell.  That  woman's  first  im- 
pulse was  to  run  and  never  let  the  people  of  the  house 
know  she  overheard.  She  knew  what  the  words  meant. 
In  some  manner  Sybilla  had  heard  of  the  check  and  sus- 
pected Sarah.  Mother-desire  to  protect  her  offspring 
urged  her  to  keep  silent  and  allow  the  stigma  to  settle 
upon  the  innocent.  In  a  flash  that  seared  her  very  heart 
she  saw  the  scene  of  that  night  when  Sarah  had  con- 
fronted Dan  with  the  evidence  of  his  guilt.  She  felt 
again  the  terror  and  hopelessness  as  the  disgrace  of  her 
boy  loomed  before  her.  Could  she  forget  the  moment 
Sarah  walked  to  the  fire  and  threw  the  forgery  into  the 
flames  ?  In  that  moment  Mrs.  Roth  reached  the  heights ; 
the  multitude  of  her  sins  were  covered  by  one  act  of  real 
charity.  She  turned  and  ran  across  the  street  to  her  own 
home,  where  Dan  was  reading  the  paper  during  the  brief 
recess  of  the  noon  hour. 

"  Dan."  She  told  the  story  in  a  breathless  jumble  of 
words. 

He,  too,  proved  that  contact  with  Sarah  had  been  a 
saving  experience.  He  rose.  "  They  blame  Sarah  for 
my  guilt !  She's  an  angel !  I'm  going  straight  over !  " 

A  few  minutes  later  the  Burkhart  family  gasped  simul- 
taneously at  the  apparition  that  appeared  in  the  doorway 
of  the  kitchen :  Mrs.  Roth,  panting,  weeping ;  Dan,  hatless 
and  bursting  with  some  information. 

"  I  heard  you "  the  mother  began. 

Dan  stepped  out  and  said,  "  Mother,  let  me  tell  it ! 


THE  CLOUDS  ROLLED  AWAY          313 

Mother  heard  something  makes  her  think  you  found  a 
paper  with  Jeremiah  Burkhart  written  all  over  it." 

"  Yes.     I  did ! "  Sybilla  wasn't  loath  to  admit. 

"  And  you  suppose  that  because  Sarah  had  it  she  wrote 
it?" 

"  She  won't  tell." 

"  No,  she  can't  tell,  because  she'd  expose  the  real  sin- 
ner !  I  wrote  that  paper !  " 

Sarah  made  a  protesting  sound  but  he  paid  no  attention 
to  it. 

"  I  wrote  it  and  she  found  it  and  thought  I  needed 
watching.  So  when  I  forged  a  check  and  she  got  it  she 
saw  just  what  it  was.  She  came  over  and  told  us  about 
it.  I'll  never  forget  the  hell  I  went  through  that  night. 
I  saw  what  I  had  done,  how  I  was  started  on  the  down 
road.  But  that  blessed  girl  burned  the  check  after  she 
had  given  me  a  good  scare  and  because  we  had  spent  our 
money  so  close  we  had  no  fifty  to  make  it  good,  she  gave 
me  hers  to  make  it  good  until  after  the  holidays,  when  I 
can  pay  her  back.  It  isn't  easy  to  tell  you  this.  I  was 
hoping  it  could  be  kept  in  the  dark,  but  I  couldn't  see  her 
blamed  for  anything  like  that.  It's  a  wretched  story  so 
far  as  I  am  concerned  but  it  puts  a  halo  round  her  head. 
Mr.  Burkhart,  I'm  sorry.  I  don't  suppose  you  can  trust 
me  after  this " 

"  My  boy !  "  cried  the  mother.  "  Oh,  Mr.  Burkhart, 
don't  be  too  hard  on  him!  He's  trying  so  hard  to  go 
right  now.  I  know  he  learned  his  lesson.  Don't  send 
him  to  jail  or  discharge  him — say  you  won't! " 

The  old  man  spoke  with  irritating  slowness  to  the  ones 
who  hung  upon  his  words  as  though  much  depended  upon 
them.  "  I  guess  mebbe  Dan  got  enough  punishment  for 
it  a'ready.  If  this  had  happened  before  Sarah  come  to 


314        THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

live  with  us  I'd  been  for  puttin'  him  to  jail  or  anyhow  to 
discharge  him,  but " — his  voice  trembled — "  she  learned 
me  to  be  merciful  and  forgive,  and  I  guess  we'll  call  it  all 
in  the  past  so  long  as  Dan  goes  right." 

Mrs.  Roth  was  overjoyed.  "  Sarah,  I  want  to  tell  you 
how  mean  I  talked  about  you  and  all  and  how  sorry  I  am. 
And  what  I  said  about  Reverend  Snavely  making  up  to 
girls  and  then  going  off  wasn't  true.  I  was  so  mean  I 
didn't  want  you  to  get  a  good  man,  but  now  I  think  the 
best  one  in  the  world  won't  be  too  good  for  you." 

After  Dan  and  his  mother  left,  a  happy  pair  once  more, 
Aunt  Sybilla  came  to  Sarah.  "  Say,"  she  said  humbly, 
"  I  ain't  fit  to  wipe  off  your  shoes  after  all  I  said  to  you, 
but  if  you  don't  hold  it  against  me  I  want  to  be  nice  to 
you  from  now  on." 

"Aunt  Sybilla,  of  course  you  didn't  know!  It  was 
natural  to  suspect  me."  The  girl  smiled  through  tears 
and  before  they  knew  it  her  arms  were  twined  around  the 
neck  of  the  old  aunt.  "  I  believe,"  she  said,  "  that  I'm 
going  to  like  you  every  bit  as  much  now  as  I  like  Aunt 
Mary!" 

"  Well,  I  guess  it's  time  once  I  treat  you  nice ! " 

"  Now  we're  going  to  have  a  happy  Christmas,  after 
all !  "  Sarah  clapped  her  hands.  "And  this  morning  I 
thought  it  would  be  the  worst  one  ever  I  knew.  It  just 
shows  that  we  shouldn't  worry  so,  that  things  turn  out 
better  than  we  expect  and  people  are  so  much  nicer  than 
we  think  they  are.  Here's  Dan  going  to  make  me  proud 
of  him,  and  his  mother  nice  to  me,  and  you  all  so  kind  to 
me — oh,  I'd  like  to  run  up  and  down  the  street  and  shout 
hurrah!" 


CHAPTER  XXII 

CHRISTMAS  EVE 

CHRISTMAS  EVE  Sarah  declared  she  was  so  happy  she 
felt  tempted  to  stay  awake  all  night  to  see  Christmas 
ushered  in.  At  the  remark  her  aunts  exchanged  glances 
which  the  girl  would  have  noted  if  she  had  been  less  oc- 
cupied with  singing  paeans  of  gladness.  Every  time  she 
left  the  room  the  women  spoke  in  hurried  whispers  that 
ran  this  wise — "Are  you  sure  he'll  bring  it  to-night  ?  " 
"  Yes,  he  said  he'd  come  after  the  store  closes  and  not 
make  any  noise  but  put  it  on  the  porch — sh!  here  she 
comes ! " 

Sarah,  not  knowing  that  strange  doings  were  brewing 
in  the  old  house,  asked  why  they  sewed  so  long  on  Christ- 
mas Eve.  "  I  declare,  to  see  you,  Aunt  Sybilla,  one 
would  never  think  you  had  twenty  aprons  in  your  chest ! 
You  sew  on  that  one  as  though  you  had  to  wear  it  to- 
morrow ! " 

"  But  I  want  to  give  it  to  Mrs.  Felker  with  her  cookies, 
for  she's  so  good  to  that  poor  crazy  boy  and  I  think  still 
abody  can't  be  too  glad  when  you  ain't  got  one  like  him." 

Sarah  accepted  the  explanation  and  the  aunts  sewed 
on.  At  ten  grandfather  went  to  bed,  but  the  women 
made  no  move  toward  "  fixing  things  for  the  night." 

Finally  the  girl  said,  "  I'm  going  to  bed.  I'm  tired ;  it's 
been  a  full  day  but  a  happy  one.  I  couldn't  hold  another 
ounce  of  joy." 

As  soon  as  she  was  safely  up-stairs  the  sewing  was 


316    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

thrown  aside  and  strange  doings  began  in  the  Burkhart 
sitting-room.  The  women  brought  out  from  under  the 
haircloth  sofa  several  boxes  and  opened  them.  Stifled 
exclamations  were  heard  as  colored  balls  for  a  tree  were 
held  up.  Then  the  door  was  opened  cautiously,  a  tree 
dragged  into  the  room  and  Aunt  Mary  whispered,  "  He 
had  no  stand  left  but  he  said  to  put  it  in  a  bucket  of  coal 
would  hold  it  up." 

They  followed  directions,  stood  off  to  look  at  the  tree, 
then  set  to  work  with  the  trimming.  It  was  a  new  task 
for  the  Mennonite  women  but  love  guided  their  hands. 
Their  niece,  the  wonderful  girl  who  had  done  so  much 
for  them,  showed  them  how  to  forgive,  taught  them  how 
to  be  loyal,  lighted  their  drab  lives  and  set  the  house  ring- 
ing with  her  music — their  child  had  never  had  a  tree  of 
her  own,  she  wanted  one  and  she  was  going  to  have  one ! 

When  the  last  red  ball  had  been  hooked  on  a  branch 
they  stood  away  and  viewed  their  work.  "  Um,"  said 
Aunt  Sybilla,  "  ain't  so  bad  for  two  old  maids ! " 

"Yes.     Won't  she  jump?" 

Then  they  turned  out  the  lights  and  went  up-stairs. 
Sarah  called  to  them,  "  Gracious,  did  you  make  a  whole 
dress  for  Mrs.  Felker?  I  just  woke  up  and  had  a  notion 
to  come  down  and  see  if  anything  is  wrong,  then  I  heard 
you  come  up." 

The  women  smiled  at  the  narrow  escape  and  bit  their 
lips  like  children  fearful  of  discovery  in  some  fault. 
Their  good-nights  to  the  girl  were  full  of  love,  but  given 
between  mysterious  chuckles. 

When  the  aunts  reached  the  room  they  had  shared 
since  girlhood  and  closed  the  door  Aunt  Mary  said, 
"  Sybilla,  it  don't  right  suit  me  to  just  give  her  sensible 
things.  Of  course  the  petticoat  you  got  and  the  woolen 


CHRISTMAS  EVE  317 

dress  I  bought  are  nice,  but  ain't  they  a  little — ach,  you 
know,  they  don't  seem  like  Christmas ! " 

"  I  know  what  you  mean.  Guess  we  might  have  bought 
her  a  little  perfume  or  something  like  that."  Perfume 
was  the  one  frivolous  desire  in  the  heart  of  Sybilla. 

"  Now  I  know  what !  "  Aunt  Mary  had  an  inspiration. 
"Why  not  give  her  that  jewelry  we  had  long  a'ready? 
Them  breastpins." 

"  We  might.  We're  plain  and  don't  wear  them  any- 
how. She  likes  to  be  fixed  up,  for  Mary  Becker  is,  and 
they  go  together.  Let's  look  once." 

So  the  white-capped  women  bent  over  an  old  velvet 
jewel  box  and  took  from  it  an  antique  cameo  and  a  pearl- 
studded  pin,  relics  of  past  generations. 

"  They're  good,  and  I  seen  a  lady  with  one  of  them 
picture  pins  on  not  so  long  ago.  I  guess  they  are  in  style 
again.  Here,  I'll  put  them  in  this  little  box  and  slip 
down  and  put  it  with  her  other  presents." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

CHRISTMAS  MORNING 

HOME — there  is  a  magic  about  the  word  that  will  not 
be  denied.  Christmas  at  home — thrice  magical  words 
that  fling  aside  the  mists  of  vanished  years  and  bring, 
even  to  hardened  hearts,  memories  of  childhood  days  and 
Christmas  at  home. 

To  Sarah  the  words  were  fraught  with  wonder.  She 
wakened  early,  heard  the  aunts  prowling  about  in  their 
room,  and  sprang  from  her  high  old-fashioned  bed.  As 
she  dressed  she  called  gaily  "  Merry  Christmas ! "  first 
down  the  hall  to  her  grandfather,  then  up  the  other  direc- 
tion to  her  aunts. 

"  Don't  you  go  down-stairs  till  we  do,"  commanded 
Aunt  Sybilla. 

"Why  not?" 

"  Well,  just  you  do  like  I  tell  you !  " 

"  All  right.     I'll  be  good,  seeing  it's  Christmas." 

So  when  the  women  and  Grandfather  Burkhart  were 
ready  to  go  down  they  found  the  girl  sitting  meekly  at  the 
head  of  the  stairs. 

"Did  you  ever  see  such  a  good  child?"  she  asked 
roguishly.  "But  I'm  only  being  good  so  I'll  get  some 
presents." 

"  You  better !     Pop,  you  go  down  first." 

The  family  procession  moved  slowly,  too  slowly  for  the 
eager  girl,  who  would  have  slid  down  the  bannister  if  the 
coast  had  been  clear. 


CHRISTMAS  MORNING  319 

Grandfather  led  the  way  into  the  sitting-room.  Sarah 
was  so  excited  she  did  not  see  the  tree  at  once.  Some- 
thing in  the  expectant  smiles  of  the  women  aroused  her 
suspicions ;  she  followed  her  grandfather's  glance 

"  Oh,  sweet  Peter !    A  tree !  " 

She  ran  to  it  and  touched  the  lowest  shining  balls,  then 
turned  and  faced  her  family.  "  You're  the  dearest  peo- 
ple on  earth !  I  couldn't  be  any  happier  if  I  had  a  million 
dollars  left  to  me !  When  did  you  do  it  ?  How  did  you 
get  it  fixed  without  me  knowing?  I'm  not  as  smart  as  I 
thought  I  was !  " 

Sybilla  laughed.  "Mary  ordered  it  and  bought  the 
balls  when  she  went  up-town  last  evening.  It  was  on  the 
side  porch  till  you  went  to  bed.  We  had  a  time  trimmin' 
it  to  suit,  but  we  done  pretty  good,  ain't  ?  " 

"  Chased  me  to  bed,"  said  grandfather.  "  They  thought 
you'd  smell  the  rat  if  I  stayed  up  late  too.  You  done 
pretty  good  for  the  first  tree,  girls." 

"  Their  first  tree  too  ?  "  asked  the  girl.  When  they  told 
her  it  was,  she  exclaimed,  "  Then  we'll  all  enjoy  our  first 
tree  together." 

A  little  later  they  gathered  for  morning  worship. 
Sarah  found  the  place  in  the  huge  family  Bible  and 
grandfather  read  the  Christmas  message.  She  looked 
across  at  Aunt  Sybilla.  The  lined  face  was  softened. 
Sarah  felt  a  tug  at  her  heart.  How  much  better  she  un- 
derstood and  liked  the  woman  now!  She  hoped  they 
would  become  capital  friends  since  Aunt  Sybilla  had  been 
drawn  into  the  magic  circle. 

"  Now  it's  time  to  give  out  the  presents,"  came  Aunt 
Mary's  announcement.  Sarah  ran  up  the  stairs  and 
brought  down  the  candy,  perfume  and  gilt- framed  pic- 
ture. She  dimpled  as  she  saw  the  smiles  of  pleased  sur- 


320    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

prise  on  the  faces  of  the  family.  Her  white-hyacinth 
gifts  were  very  welcome. 

Then  came  her  turn  to  open  packages.  The  dress,  pet- 
ticoat and  money  from  grandfather  pleased  her,  but  it 
was  the  last  little  box  with  the  precious  jewelry  in  it  that 
brought  from  her  the  greatest  cries  of  delight. 

"  For  me  ?    These  for  me  ?  " 

"  Be  sure." 

"To  keep?" 

"  Yes,  abody  generally  dare  keep  presents.  The  pearl 
pin  belonged  to  your  great  granny  and  the  picture  one 
your  granny  wore  when  she  was  a  girl." 

"  Oh,  to  think  that  I  have  a  real  grandmother's  jewelry, 
and  a  great-grandmother's  too!  I'll  sit  up  all  night  to 
watch  these  pins !  " 

It  was  only  after  Aunt  Sybilla's  repeated  warnings  that 
the  turkey  had  to  be  placed  in  the  oven  early  and  break- 
fast prepared  that  the  girl  laid  her  presents  on  a  table  and 
went  to  the  kitchen.  As  she  helped  with  the  work  she 
broke  into  singing.  Nothing  seemed  adequate  to  express 
her  feeling  but  the  carol,  "  It  Came  Upon  the  Midnight 
Clear."  Aunt  Sybilla,  placing  the  turkey  into  the  roaster, 
paused  a  moment  as  she  heard  the  words,  "  Oh,  rest  be- 
side the  weary  road  and  hear  the  angels  sing !  "  Had  her 
ears  been  stopped  these  many  years?  It  had  taken  the 
hand  of  the  girl  to  tear  from  her  the  grave  clothes  that 
bound  her  and  to  show  her  how  to  forgive  and  under- 
stand and  love  her  fellow  mortals.  She  thought  of  recent 
Christmas  days  in  their  home,  the  dull  quiet  time,  a  few 
useful  gifts,  a  little  rest  or  nodding  over  a  paper.  But 
this  year  with  the  girl's  laughter  sounding  through  the 
house  like  the  peal  of  bells,  her  spontaneous  joy  in  her 
gifts — what  a  day  it  was!  Then  she  thought  of  Jake. 


CHRISTMAS  MORNING  321 

The  thought  was  disturbing.  Where  was  he  spending  his 
Christmas  ?  Had  she  been  too  hard  on  him  ?  She  wished 
she  could  tell  him  she  forgave  him — not  that  she  wanted 
to  speak  to  him  or  have  him  come — oh,  no !  But  just  to 
know  that  everything  was  right  between  them  would  be  a 
blessing.  She  shook  her  head.  Never,  never,  could  she 
make  the  first  move  to  reconciliation,  never ! 

After  breakfast  Sarah  donned  red  cap,  mittens  and 
sweater  and  went  out  to  sweep  the  light  snow  that  had 
fallen  during  the  night.  Her  dark  hair  escaped  from 
under  her  cap  and  before  she  had  swept  many  minutes 
her  cheeks  matched  her  sweater  and  cap.  There  was  a 
sharp  tang  in  the  air,  a  clear  cold  that  moved  one  to  walk 
briskly  at  the  same  time  it  filled  you  with  appreciation  of 
the  perfection  of  the  winter  day. 

"  Merry  Christmas !  "  called  the  rector  from  his  side  of 
the  hedge,  where  he,  too,  was  exercising  with  a  broom. 

"  Merry  Christmas !  "  came  the  gay  reply  as  she  waved 
her  broom  in  friendly  greeting.  "  Isn't  this  great !  " 

"  I  think  so.     You  like  to  do  it  ?  " 

"  I'd  sweep  all  Fairview  if  I  could !  " 

"Off  the  map?" 

"  No,  no !  Certainly  not !  Rather  on  the  map  in  big 
capitals !  It's  the  finest,  dearest  place  I  ever  struck." 

"  With  the  finest  people  ?  " 

"  Um — yes,  some  of  them."  Then  she  laughed  and  the 
heart  of  the  rector  fluttered  like  a  captive  bird  as  he  met 
the  flash  of  it  and  saw  the  light  dancing  in  her  gray  eyes. 

Just  then  Sarah  reached  the  walk  that  ran  round  the 
side  of  the  house  and  permitted  a  view  of  the  home  across 
the  street. 

"  Hello,  Dan !  "  she  called.     "  Merry  Christmas !  " 

The  rector's  heart  fluttered  with  another  emotion.    Lit- 


322    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

tie  demons  of  jealousy  pranced  about  in  him.  He  was 
finding  how  easy  it  is  to  break  the  tenth  commandment. 

Dan  returned  a  merry  call  and  went  down  the  street. 

"  Dan's  a  nice  boy,"  the  rector's  curiosity  began  like  the 
investigating  antennae  of  a  butterfly. 

"  Yes,"  responded  the  girl  so  fervently  that  the  man 
did  not  gain  much  comfort  from  his  probing.  "  Isn't  it 
strange  how  you  can  change  in  feeling  for  some  people  ? 
When  I  first  came  here  I  detested  Dan  Roth,  but  now — 
well,  I  think  he  is  going  to  be  a  man  we  can  be  proud  of." 

The  rector  gave  his  broom  a  far  more  vigorous  swing 
than  was  necessary  to  move  the  light  snow,  but  said  no 
more  as  the  girl  moved  farther  to  the  front  of  the  house 
and  away  from  him.  He  thought  of  her  words  as  he 
went  on  sweeping  the  snow.  Of  course  Dan  would  come 
over  with  a  gift  for  Sarah  later — lucky  Dan ! 

His  supposition  proved  true.  Later  in  the  morning 
Dan  ran  across  the  street  with  cookies  his  mother  sent 
and  a  box  of  candy  for  Sarah.  His  eyes  pleaded  with 
the  girl  to  accept  his  offering,  his  thank  offering  for  her 
goodness  to  him.  She  responded  royally.  There  was  no 
coquettishness  in  her  manner  neither  any  lover-like  atti- 
tude in  his,  just  a  frank  friendliness. 

But  the  rector,  who  had  seen  the  youth  enter  the  Burk- 
hart  home,  pictured  to  himself  a  far  different  meeting. 
He  pulled  himself  up  short — "  time  to  halt,"  he  admon- 
ished his  heart.  Later  when  he  joined  the  family  of  one 
of  his  parishioners  at  Christmas  dinner  and  found  him- 
self in  the  company  of  two  eligible  daughters  he  remem- 
bered what  was  expected  of  him  as  a  guest  and  tried  to 
be  entertaining  and  not  a  bore,  but  the  vision  of  a  red- 
clad  girl  with  laughing  face  thrust  itself  before  him  until 
he  felt  relieved  when  the  dinner  was  over  and  the  time 


CHRISTMAS  MORNING  323 

came  when  he  could  take  his  departure.  He  supposed 
Burkharts  also  had  a  dinner  guest.  Lucky  Dan ! 

Burkharts  did  have  a  dinner  guest  but  it  was  not  Dan. 
The  identity  of  that  guest  would  have  surprised  Fairview 
if  the  news  had  spread.  It  was  not  Dan,  but  Dan  was 
responsible  for  the  invitation.  In  the  morning  the  boy 
had  admired  the  tree  and  remarked  thoughtfully,  "  Say, 
why  didn't  you  put  an  angel  on  the  top,  Aunt  Sybilla? 
Don't  you  know  that  every  Christmas  tree  must  have  an 
angel  on  the  very  tip-top  ?  " 

"  No,  ain't  that  too  bad !  But  me  nor  Mary  never 
trimmed  none  before  and  didn't  know  that."  After  he 
left  she  racked  her  brains  to  think  where  she  could  secure 
an  angel — did  she  have  any  in  the  house  ?  An  inspiration 
came  to  her.  She  went  to  the  attic,  brought  from  under 
the  rafters  a  box  and  stirred  about  until  she  found  an  old- 
fashioned  valentine.  It  was  a  huge  heart,  covered  with 
lace,  and  had  pasted  upon  it  a  figure  she  called  an  angel. 
It  was  none  other  than  the  Little  Blind  God,  but  to  her  it 
had  always  been  an  angel.  She  lifted  it  from  the  lace 
heart  and  carried  it  down-stairs.  When  they  fixed  a  tree 
once  in  their  lives  they  wanted  to  have  it  right!  She 
fastened  the  cupid  to  the  very  top  and  called  Sarah. 

"  Where  did  you  get  it?  " 

"  Up  in  the  garret." 

"  Looks  like  part  of  a  valentine." 

"  It  is.  Ach,  Jake  sent  it  to  me  once  when  we  went  to 
school  yet." 

"Aunt  Sybilla!"  The  girl  had  a  sudden  inspiration. 
"  Why  don't  you  invite  Jake  here  for  dinner  to-day  ? " 

"Here!  To-day!  For  dinner!  Well,  I  guess 
not ! " 

"  Why  not  ?    Isn't  it  Christmas  and  don't  you  feel 


324    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

sorry  for  him,  and  isn't  this  the  day  to  meet  old  friends 
and  make  up  with  them  and  be  nice  to  them  ?  " 

"  Mebbe  it  is,  but  Jake — why  he — ach,  he  wouldn't 
come  if  I  would  ask  it." 

"  Yes  he  would.  I  know  him.  He  often  comes  to  the 
store  and  asks  about  the  family." 

"  Not  me !  "     She  raised  a  hand  in  protest. 

"  Yes,  you !  He  asks  if  you  are  well  and — but  I  won't 
tell  you  another  thing!  If  you  want  to  know  how  nice 
Jake  is  you  better  ask  him  to  come  for  dinner.  I'll  call 
him  up  and  invite  him — may  I  ?  " 

"  No — wait  once — mebbe  it  would  be  nice — well,  I 
don't  care  if  you  don't  tell  him  I  said  so " 

"  I  may  ?  Good !  "  Sarah  ran  to  the  telephone.  By 
the  time  she  had  secured  the  number  the  woman  realized 
what  was  happening. 

"  Stop !  Sarah !  "  She  laid  a  heavy  hand  on  the  girl's 
arm,  but  it  was  shaken  off. 

"  You're  too  late.  You  said  I  might."  And  she  spoke 
into  the  instrument  the  words  that  brought  a  promise 
from  the  farmer  several  miles  away.  He  would  be  glad 
to  eat  his  Christmas  dinner  in  the  Burkhart  home. 

"  My,  what  did  you  do  that  for  ?  "  Sybilla  demanded, 
trembling,  as  the  girl  faced  her  and  smiled  triumphantly. 

"  I  don't  know,  but  I  think  I'm  just  a  willing  instru- 
ment in  the  hand  of  fate,"  she  said  as  she  followed  the 
perturbed  woman  to  the  kitchen,  where  the  savory  odor 
of  turkey  was  already  foretelling  one  of  the  good  things 
that  waited  for  the  visitor. 

Aunt  Mary  received  the  news  with  a  little  relieved 
laugh.  "  Sybilla,  I'm  glad.  I  used  to  wish  poor  Jake 
could  come  for  dinner,  for  he  always  liked  our  cookin' 
so." 


CHRISTMAS  MORNING  325 

Jeremiah  Burkhart  said  little  but  he  nodded  his  head  as 
Sarah  ran  to  him  with  the  news.  It  meant  that  Sybilla 
was  learning  to  forgive.  He  liked  Jake,  he  always  did 
like  Jake. 

Sybilla's  heart  beat  too  fast  as  the  time  approached  for 
the  coming  of  Jake.  She  made  unnecessary  trips  to  the 
cellar  and  trotted  back  and  forth  in  the  kitchen  until 
Mary  felt  tempted  to  tell  her  to  go  sit  down.  But  she 
understood  how  agitated  her  sister  must  be  and  bore  with 
her. 

"  What  ailed  me  ?  "  the  elder  sister  said  over  and  over 
to  Sarah.  "  What  in  the  world  made  me  say  you  dare 
ask  him?  But  you  might  knowed  I  didn't  mean  it!  If 
only  you'd  listened  when  I  said  you  should  not  do  it! 
But  you  went  on  and  asked  him  and  now  he's  comin' ! " 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE  GUEST 

WHEN  Jake  came  it  was  very  simple  after  all.  Sarah 
opened  the  door  for  him  and  stood  in  the  hall  with  him  as 
he  shook  the  snow  from  his  overshoes,  then  she  led  the 
way  into  the  sitting-room  where  the  man  of  the  house 
greeted  him  as  if  he  had  been  a  weekly  visitor.  Then 
Mary  came  in  from  the  kitchen,  followed  by  Sybilla  wip- 
ing her  hands  on  her  apron. 

"  Well,  Jake,"  she  addressed  him. 

"  Well,  Sybilla,"  he  said  in  his  slow,  gentle  way,  with  a 
rising  inflection  on  the  last  syllable  of  her  name.  They 
shook  hands  and  then  Sarah  stepped  into  the  silence  and 
made  some  trivial  remark  that  set  Mary  and  the  grand- 
father talking  and  left  the  two  estranged  to  make  their 
peace. 

"  You  give  me  a  mighty  fine  Christmas  present,  Sybilla. 
When  the  girl  here  called  up  I  could  hardly  believe  it  at 
first.  Then  it  come  to  me  that  you  thought  we  was  old 
enough  to  get  some  sense  and  not  have  hard  feelin's  no 
more.  It  seems  good  to  make  up,  don't  it,  Sybilla  ?  " 

"  Yes.  It  worried  me  a  lot  to  think  that  I  felt  so  hard 
to  you  but  when  Sarah  come  and  learned  us  that  we  ain't 
Christians  like  we  think  we  are  if  we  don't  forgive  people 
then  it  set  me  thinkin'.  I  guess  I  was  too  much  like  a 
stone.  I  felt  long  a'ready  that  we  ought  to  talk  together. 
I'm  glad  you  come  and  you  dare  stop  in  sometimes  like 
you  used  for  dinner  or  supper." 


THE  GUEST  327 

"And  is  that  all  ?  "  Jake  looked  at  her  over  his  steel- 
rimmed  spectacles.  His  fifty  years  of  life  had  mellowed 
him  and  made  him  a  kindly  man,  but  they  had  also  taught 
him  to  read  human  nature  with  a  fair  degree  of  accuracy. 
He  knew  he  would  have  to  assert  himself  to  gain  any  in- 
road into  the  heart  of  Sybilla.  She  would  hold  him  at 
arm's  length  if  he  were  too  slow. 

"  Why,  ach,  Jake,  I  guess  I  didn't  get  you  in  here  to 
make  up  that  old — to  be  promised  like  we  used — I  just 
wanted  to  do  the  right  thing  by  you  and  not  feel  we  don't 
talk  together." 

"  Yes  ?  Well,  I'm  a  pretty  good  waiter.  I  waited 
twenty  years  for  you  to  forget  that  one  slip  I  made,  and 
I  guess  I  can  wait  a  little  longer  for  you  to  make  up  right. 
Say,  that  turkey  smells  mighty  good!  There  ain't  any- 
body can  beat  you  and  Mary  cookin'." 

"  Go  on,  now,  Jake,"  Sybilla  smiled  at  him.  "  You 
talk  to  pop  a  while  and  I'll  go  out  help  with  the  dinner." 

She  bustled  away  and  as  she  entered  the  kitchen  where 
Sarah  was  working  the  girl  looked  at  her  in  amazement. 
Did  the  coming  of  Jake  make  the  grim  old  woman  like 
that?  Why,  her  face  was  shining,  years  seemed  to  have 
rolled  off  her  shoulders,  a  light  shone  in  her  eyes — Sarah 
wanted  to  run  to  her  and  say  some  of  the  tender  things 
she  had  never  wanted  to  say  before. 

The  Christmas  dinners  on  Sunset  Mountain  had  seemed 
veritable  feasts  to  the  children  and  Sarah  had  thought 
nothing  could  ever  be  finer  than  they,  but  the  dinner  she 
ate  in  her  home  with  Sybilla  and  Jake  looking  at  each 
other  as  though  their  youth  had  come  back  to  stay,  Mary 
beaming  in  her  sweet  way,  glad  because  others  were 
happy,  grandpap  contentedly  eating  and  talking  and  jok- 
ing about  the  wish-bone  and  reminding  Sybilla  of  the  time 


328    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

she  climbed  on  a  chair  to  put  one  over  the  door  when  she 
knew  Jake  was  coming,  and  Sybilla  blushing  at  the  re- 
minder, and  Jake  chuckling  and  grandpap  laughing  at  his 
own  joke — that  was  a  real  dinner !  It  was  small  wonder 
the  girl  swallowed  pure  joy  with  every  mouthful  of  the 
meal. 

There  was  a  touch  of  pathos  in  it  also.  During  the 
conversation  Mary  asked  Jake  what  they  were  having 
for  dinner  at  home  and  brought  the  laughing  answer, 
"  Nothing  like  this !  My  sister  went  to  Mount  Joy  and 
she  boiled  me  some  ham  for  cold  and  I  was  going  to  cook 
potatoes  and  she  did  fix  me  some  cranberry  sauce  and 
get  dried  corn  out." 

"  Jake,  you  would  have  eat  all  alone  out  there  ?  " 

"  Ach,  I  done  that  often  a'ready.  She  likes  to  go  way 
holidays  and  it  don't  do  to  tie  her  down  too  close.  I  can 
shift  pretty  good  alone  but  of  course  this  is  better 
tastin' ! " 

"  But  alone  on  Christmas ! "     Sybilla  was  distressed. 

"  Yes,  but  you  fixed  it  for  me  that  I  got  here.  See  the 
fine  old-fashioned  dinner  I  got  and  now  we're  friends 
again  and — Sarah,  I  promise  you  that  when  you  get  mar- 
ried I'll  buy  you  the  best  '  haustire '  (wedding  gift)  in 
Lancaster  County ! " 

Jake  stayed  late  into  the  afternoon.  There  were  so 
many  threads  of  other  days  to  pick  up  that  when  he 
looked  at  his  big  silver  watch  he  whistled,  "  Whew !  How 
time  flies  without  us  chasin'  it!  I  got  to  get  home  and 
feed.  Can't  starve  the  chickens  and  things  on  Christ- 
mas." 

Before  he  left  he  shocked  Sybilla  by  holding  her  hand 
with  a  vise-like  grasp  which  she  knew  would  be  futile  to 
loose. 


THE  GUEST  329 

**Say,  Sybilla,  I  guess  that  engagement  was  never 
broke,  now  was  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes." 

"  Oh,  no !  Not  my  part  of  it.  They  say  still  it  takes 
two  to  make  a  bargain  and  I  think  it  ought  to  take  two  to 
break  one.  If  you  don't  mind  my  bein'  a  little  sloppy  and 
spillin'  things  on  the  floor  or  havin'  mud  on  my  shoes 
sometimes,  when  you  are  so  particular,  why  I  guess, 
mebbe,  for  all,  you  and  me  might  get  hitched  up  yet." 

"  Jake — I  don't  know.     I  don't  believe ' 

"  Ach,"  he  laughed.  "  You  just  think  about  it  once. 
Mebbe  when  I  come  again  you  change  your  mind.  I'm 
comin'  in  soon." 

"  You  dare  come,  but " 

"  Now,  no  buts,  them  belong  in  your  pop's  store."  He 
laughed  at  his  own  pun  and  even  Sybilla  understood  it 
and  smiled.  "Jake,  you  ain't  different  from  twenty 
years  back,"  she  told  him. 

"  Yes  I  am.  I'm  nicer  but  you  got  to  marry  me  to  find 
out  how  nice  I'd  be  to  you.  Well,  thanks  for  my  dinner. 
It  was  like  old  times." 

After  he  left  Sybilla  had  many  things  to  ponder  about. 
Could  they  travel  back  again  to  the  days  of  their  youth? 
No,  but  they  could  find  happiness  regardless  of  their  age, 
if  they  understood  and  loved  each  other  and  were  ready 
to  bear  and  forbear. 

How  foolish  Jake  talked,  thought  the  woman;  why 
would  they  want  to  marry  when  they  were  almost  fifty? 
Of  course,  she  would  never,  never  do  such  a  thing!  Of 
course  not!  How  nice  Jake  was,  just  as  nice  as  ever, 
more  so!  She  liked  to  have  him  around  and  she'd  just 
make  that  farm  of  his  the  best  home  ever  he  had !  The 
idea  of  that  sister  of  his  going  off  and  leaving  poor  Jake 


330    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

alone  for  dinner  on  that  day !  Poor  Jake !  If  she  mar- 
ried him — but  she  wasn't  going  to  marry  him !  That  was 
settled.  Yet  she  bet  he  wasn't  sloppy  like  he  said  and 
if  he  did  drag  mud  into  the  house  a  woman  didn't  mind 
cleaning  up  after  her  man  when  she  liked  him.  She  was 
glad  she  and  he  had  made  up,  but  of  course  she  wouldn't 
think  of  marrying  him! 

Which  showed  that  Sybilla  was  woman  to  the  core  and 
that  Jake  stood  a  very  good  chance  of  gaining  her  for  his 
wife. 


THE  CIRCLE  COMPLETE 

CHRISTMAS  night  and  the  stars  shone  as  they  must 
have  done  that  night  when  Christmas  was  young.  Sarah 
felt  the  lure  of  them  as  she  stepped  to  the  street  after 
services  in  St.  Paul's.  She  walked  with  a  happy  crowd 
of  young  people,  now  accepted  as  one  of  them,  until  one 
by  one  they  dropped  off  at  their  own  doors  and  she  was 
left  to  finish  the  last  half  block  alone  to  her  house.  But 
the  night  was  so  bright  and  the  stars  and  the  still  sky 
called,  so  she  went  past  the  Burkhart  gate  and  kept  on 
walking. 

It  had  been  a  day  long  to  be  remembered.  Where 
would  she  find  another  so  brimful  of  happiness,  so  run- 
ning over  with  glad  happenings?  First  the  tree  and  the 
loving  thought  of  the  aunts  who  had  trimmed  it  for  her, 
then  the  friendly  call  of  Dan  and  its  satisfaction,  the 
coming  of  Jake  and  the  weaving  of  a  romance  in  her  ro- 
mantic Irish  heart,  then  the  service  in  the  church  when 
the  children  sang  and  everybody  seemed  to  spill  the  spirit 
of  the  day.  Now  for  a  walk  under  the  stars,  then  to  go 
in  and  sit  a  while  with  her  family,  and  later  to  creep  un- 
der the  patchwork  quilt  which  the  indefatigable  fingers 
of  the  aunts  had  pieced,  to  pull  it  close  to  her  chin  and 
sink  into  quiet  sleep  or  happy  dreams. 

The  town  clock  struck  nine  and  Sarah  felt  like  shout- 
ing, "All's  well ! " 


332    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

However,  she  went  silently  down  the  street,  the  snow 
crunching  under  her  tread,  her  hands  in  the  pockets  of 
her  coat,  her  thoughts  up  among  the  clouds.  Then  sud- 
denly they  came  to  earth  again.  It  was  strange,  she 
thought,  the  rector  had  never  come  over  to  see  her  tree 
though  she  had  told  him  about  it  and  invited  him  to  come. 
Well,  if  he  didn't  choose  to  be  friendly  she  wouldn't  care ! 
But  what  had  he  meant  when  he  wrote  those  words  under 
the  sonnet  and  laid  her  cardinal  flower  there?  If  he  had 
meant 

"  Pig! "  she  cried  to  herself.  "  You  got  the  earth  with 
a  fence  around  it,  now  you  want  the  moon ! " 

As  she  mused  some  one  called  her  name  and  hurrying 
steps  sounded  behind  her.  She  turned  and  saw  the  Rev- 
erend James  Snavely  trying  to  reach  her. 

He  breathed  pantingly.  "  You  are  a  walker !  I  saw 
you  leave  the  girls  and  keep  on  past  the  house.  May  I 
come  with  you  ?  Are  you  going  for  a  walk  ?  " 

"  How  in  the  wide  world  shall  I  answer  all  those  ques- 
tions? Yes,  yes,  I'm  going  for  a  walk  and  you  may 
come.  I  think  it's  too  fine  a  night  to  go  in  so  early.  I 
started  to  go  round  the  block.  I  can  do  it  in  fifteen  min- 
utes." 

"  Please  don't.  I  have  several  things  to  ask  you.  I 
didn't  get  over  to  see  that  tree  but  I'm  coming  to-morrow 
— please  don't  go  so  fast  or  we'll  be  back  before  I  ask 
what  I  must  ask  to-night." 

She  slackened  her  pace,  but  kept  silent.  Her  heart  be- 
gan strange  antics — what  was  he  going  to  ask  her? 

"  Sarah,  if  a  man  came  to  you  and  offered  his  love 
would  he  be  too  late  ?  " 

Now  she  knew! 

"  Why "     She  knitted  her  forehead,  then  laughed. 


THE  CIRCLE  COMPLETE  333 

"  That's  a  personal  question,  but  because  you're  my  neigh- 
bor and  have  been  nice  to  me,  I'll  answer  it.  If  a  man 
came  to  me  and  offered  me  his  love,  would  he  be  too 
late  ?  "  She  thought  over  it  as  a  small  boy  might  con- 
sider a  puzzling  mental  problem  in  school.  "  No,  I'd  say 
he  were  in  very  good  time  if  he  were  the  right  man." 

"  Sarah !  Look  at  me ;  am  I  the  right  one  ?  I  love  you, 
I  want  you !  " 

"You — do  you  remember  what,  who  I  am?  My  fa- 
ther, myself " 

"  Sweetheart,  as  if  that  mattered !  All  that  counts  is 
whether  we  love  each  other.  I'm  eternally  sure  about  my 
part  of  it ;  what  I  want  to  know  is  whether  you  can  care 
for  me." 

"  Then  I'll  tell  you — I'm  loving  you  as  only  an  Irish^ 
Dutch  girl  can !  Don't  you  kiss  me  on  the  street !  "  she 
said  as  his  arm  went  around  her  and  he  bent  over  her 
face. 

"  I  will !  "  he  whispered,  and  did  so,  but  the  street  was 
deserted  and  none  of  the  town  gossips  were  there  to  see. 

"  Jimmie,"  she  said  as  she  straightened  her  hat,  "  that's 
dreadful !  To  kiss  me  on  the  street !  " 

"  Then  don't  smile  at  me  like  that  or  I'll  have  to  do  it 
again." 

"  Tell  me,"  she  asked,  "  what  made  you  think  you  care 
forme?" 

"  Think  ?    Know !  "  he  corrected. 

"  Know,"  she  repeated  obediently.     "  Tell  me." 

"  Oh,  Sarah,  I've  been  tortured  these  few  weeks.  I 
saw  Dan  Roth  kiss  your  hand  one  night  over  in  their 
house  and  his  mother  smiling  at  you  both,  then  she  sang 
your  praises  so  loudly,  and  I  concluded  you  and  Dan 
were  engaged." 


334    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

"Dan  and  I!"  The  girl's  laugh  rang  out.  "Why, 
that  couldn't  ever  be!  If  you  listened  to  town  gossip 
you'd  know  that  he  and  Mary  Becker  are  crazy  about 
each  other.  That  kiss  he  gave  me  was  just  for  some  lit- 
tle service  I  was  able  to  do  for  him." 

"  Glory !  And  I  thought,  I  jumped  to  conclu- 
sions   " 

"A  very  foolish  thing  to  do  and  rather  dangerous,"  she 
told  him.  "  But  if  you  thought  that,  what  made  you 
hurry  after  me  to-night?  Did  you  think  you'd  try  to 
steal  me  from  Dan  ?  " 

"  No.  To-night  after  service  I  saw  Dan  take  Mary's 
arm  and  the  two  go  off  alone  and  you  join  the  girls.  I 
wanted  to  shout,  for  I  knew  that  if  you  and  Dan  were 
engaged  you'd  be  going  off  with  him.  So  I  came  away 
as  fast  as  I  could  to  make  a  grab  for  you  before  some 
other  chap  really  could  get  you." 

"  None  could,  Jimmie.     It's  you  I  want." 

As  they  neared  the  Burkhart  home  she  grew  serious. 
"  Dear,"  she  said,  "  how  much  happiness  can  one  human 
being  hold  ?  I  thought  I  had  all  I  could  manage.  Such 
a  Christmas  I  never  dreamed  of,  and  now  you  give  me 
more " 

"  Your  heart  is  big  enough  for  oceans  of  it.  Sarah,  I'm 
thinking  it  can  hold  as  much  as  you  give  to  others,  and 
measuring  by  what  you  are  giving  me  when  you  say  you 
love  me  and  will  marry  me,  you'll  keep  on  adding  more 
and  more." 

"  Jimmie !  At  last  the  circle  is  complete !  I  got  inside 
more  than  I  ever  dreamed,  for  I  have  you.  Of  course  I 
liked  you  and  wanted  to  be  friends  but  I  imagined  you 
were  about  as  accessible  as  the  stars  so  far  as  I  was  con- 
cerned. So  I  just  dreamed  about  you  and  wished  and 


THE  CIRCLE  COMPLETE  S35 

longed  and  hoped  a  little  and  didn't  I  get  the  very  thing  I 
wanted  but  didn't  dare  tell  even  myself  I  wanted ! " 

"  I'm  yours,  Sarah.  You  read  me  right  that  first  day — 
I  didn't  want  to  be  drawn  into  that  circle,  now  I'd  rather 
die  than  be  shut  out  of  it!  I  was  attracted  to  you  then 
in  spite  of  myself.  I  love  you  because  I  must  love  you. 
Unconsciously  everything  you  said  became  fixed  in  my 
memory.  I  could  tell  you  all  about  the  little  Maloney 
baby  you  held  in  your  arms  as  you  sat  on  the  curb  of  Red 
Rose  Court — my  Madonna  of  the  Curb.  A  little  mother, 
trying  to  relieve  suffering  even  then — a  Madonna  of  the 
Curb." 

"  Jimmie,  when  you  talk  to  me  like  that  I  want  to  cry." 

"  You  told  me  once  you'd  rather  laugh,  for  it  keeps 
you  better  looking." 

"  Gracious,  are  you  going  to  remind  me  of  all  the  fool- 
ish things  I  ever  said  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  promised,  "  but  I  have  many  things  to  say 
to  you." 

"  Well,  to-morrow  is  a  holiday,  Second  Christmas,  and 
I  won't  have  to  work.  You  might  find  time  to  jump 
across  the  hedge,  perhaps." 

"  I  might !  "  His  voice  was  eloquent  of  the  promise 
of  love. 

She  let  her  hand  linger  in  his  as  they  stood  by  the 
Burkhart  gate.  "  I,  too,  have  many  things  to  say.  You 
know,  when  I  was  on  the  mountain  and  things  made  me 
happy,  so  happy  that  they  hurt,  things  like  the  sunset  or 
birds  or  Miss  Hughes'  kindness,  I  used  to  think  my 
mother  knew  about  it  and  was  glad.  I  feel  that  way  now 
and  I'm  thinking  she's  so  glad  for  me  this  minute  that 
heaven  can  hardly  hold  her !  " 

He  stooped   then   and  kissed  her   on   the   forehead. 


336    THE  MADONNA  OF  THE  CURB 

"  What  a  heart  of  gold !  "  he  whispered.  "  Good-night, 
sleep  sweet,"  he  said  as  he  opened  the  gate  for  her. 

"  Sleep !  I'll  not  sleep  this  night  but  sit  up  and  tell 
myself  you  love  me !  And  I  have  a  wake  to  go  to,  too." 

"  Who's  dead  ?  "  he  asked,  falling  into  her  mood. 

"  My  fears,  troubles,  unhappiness — all  deader'n  a  door- 
nail, and  you  did  it ! " 

"  Which  is,  I  am  sure,  the  finest,  wisest  bit  of  work  I 
have  ever  done." 

At  last  she  had  found  the  happy  balance  of  woman- 
hood, her  feet  tethered  to  earth,  her  soul  winging  among 
the  heights.  At  last  the  little  child  of  the  slums  and  re- 
formatory had  come  into  her  own, — the  circle  was  com- 
plete ! 


THE  END 


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